


To Be A Citizen

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Bondage, M/M, Sexual Toys, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a Cybertron that requires documentation for a mecha to have even the right to exist Jazz lacks it, and Prowl is the Enforcer who captures him.  Only it doesn't go quite as either expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This verse has tri-wing Praxians, but other frametypes are normal  
> [Tri-Wing Prowl by Alteride](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Tri-Wing-Prowl-by-Alteride-261651115) by [Gatekat](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

Lieutenant Prowl of the Praxian Enforcers enjoyed his function more than most. Even he admitted he enjoyed it more than most thought sane. Yet at this rank he had the perfect mix of duties for himself. He had enough rank and seniority that he was heavily relied upon to organize and direct the large and prestigious Upper Market District while still allowing him frequent patrol shifts to be out and see his territory first hand.

This orn his shift was over, but with nothing more appealing to do he had decided to tour his district on the way home. Businesses were still busy and it gave his spark a contented sensation at how many mecha smiled, lifted their sensor wings or otherwise greeted him in a manner that spoke to their status as law-abiding citizens. In alt mode he couldn't do much to respond, other than a general ping of acknowledgement/friendly greeting in reply.

It felt _good_ to be out in his district, among the mecha he protected.

Serious trouble in his distract was rare, a testament to the well organized forces that protected its citizens and took pride in their duty. So the mech that dashed towards him, waving a hand and pointing down a side street was an immediate concern. Without hesitation Prowl raced there and transformed. A deep growl erupted from his engine to see three mecha beating on a fourth and he immediately called it in and left the line with dispatch open so all events would be recorded as per procedure.

"Halt!" he roared, his voice easily carrying over the noise of the fight.

The aggressors jumped in unison, stepping back from their target as soon as they recognized Prowl as an officer of law. Not a single one of them seemed concerned about the fact that they had just been caught beating the living daylights out of another.

"Officer. Glad to see you." One said, stepping forward and establishing himself as the leader of the small group. His sensors wings lowered in calm, respectful greeting.

"You are?" Prowl couldn't quite help but be caught off guard by the reaction. It was unlike anything he'd encountered before. "What is going on?"

"My designation is Echowave. I manage one of the shops the next street over." The red and black patterned mech responded, politely pinging Prowl his registration with the introduction. Prowl gave a slight cant of his sensor wings to indicate that he had received it and could place the storeowner.

"This is Slickstep and Slider," Echowave continued, indicating the pair of slender, small mechs with him. "They own a street stand, and I gave them permission to set up out in front of my shop this orn. I came out to see what was going on when they called for help."

"We caught that thing shoplifting. When he took off we called for help and chased after him." The one identified as Slickstep explained, his single panels low and respectful as he explained.

"That explains chasing and pinning him, not beating him," Prowl said carefully as he moved in to assess the damage to the badly dented and scraped up black and white visored mech with single wing panels.

As he looked closer he noticed that the mech, older mechling really, had an interesting frame under all of the damage. Small inconsistencies made up the frame, incomplete upgrades, parts that were substandard in some cases mixed in with components of exceptional quality. There were also clear indicators of mixed heritage with the stubby sensor horns instead of a chevron.

"Who cares what happens to a not-mech?" Echowave asked with a small shrug of his wings. "We figured it out when we caught up with him. Figured if we drove the point home he wouldn't try it again. Maybe ever."

"That's a serious charge," Prowl turned his gaze on the victim and pinged him again for his ID and proof of citizenship and came up with nothing, not even to his higher-clearance ping.

"He looks the part. Acts the part. And when we all tried to get an ID off of him we came up empty. Check for yourself." Echowave responded, clearly not concerned as he looked down at the lump on the ground, filed radiating disgust.

A head raised up, not even giving the shop owner a glance as the cracked visor focused on Prowl. The dirty, dented frame tensed, radiating fear and defiance, the gaze full of silent anger.

"Do you have an aliquis?" Prowl asked directly.

Slowly the mech's attention moved between all of those gathered before landing back on Prowl. A small shake of his head confirmed their accusations. He had nothing. No rights. No status. Not even the designation he used could be claimed as his own. There was no point in trying to lie to an officer of the law.

Prowl ruffled his long sensor wings in displeasure before looking at the shopkeeper. "Did you retrieve what he stole?"

"We did." Slickstep replied as his companion held up the retrieved stolen merchandise for Prowl's inspection. A box of energon treats and a couple of cubes of prepackaged flavored energon.

"Then be on your way. I'll deal with this creature," Prowl said firmly but politely.

"Yes sir." The trio of mecha replied, offering Prowl a polite farewell cant of their sensor panels before turning and making their way down the side street.

With that dealt with, Prowl focused on the mech that did not legally exist, and a half-breed no less. He knew he should take it in to be euthanized, something he'd done a dozen times without hesitation, but this one he wanted to save for some reason. "So what are you called?"

The mech on the ground looked up at him, visor flashing with anger at being toyed with before he finally answered. "Jazz."

"Then Jazz, I can take you in to be euthanized, or you can work for me long enough to earn an aliquis," Prowl said simply and evenly. "The choice is yours."

The stunned, slack-jawed response that Prowl got in return to his offer was comical. The shock and disbelief that radiated in the field of the battered thing at his pedes was born of a full functioning of distrust.

"Why?" Jazz finally asked, demanded. Why would this mech, an _officer of the law_ , offer him something like that?

"Because I can and I ... feel like it," Prowl shrugged in the least officer-like action so far. "I've learned not to fight it when I want something illogical."

Slowly, stiffly, the battered frame moved into a more upright position, single sensor panels pinned low to it's back. "What do you want?" Jazz finally asked, weighing this fate against the oblivion and the potential end of his suffering that he had also just been offered.

"In exchange for your medical, energon and a place to recharge, you will keep my home clean and stocked to my standards, wash and polish my frame and run any errands I send you on. You will have the protection of a limited aliquis linked to your contract with me," Prowl began to spell it out, thinking up the contract on the spot. "I also expect you to become educated enough to be a useful citizen when you earn your aliquis. A detailed contract will be written up within a few orns, after I have spoken to a lawyer who specializes in such arrangements."

"Yeah. Okay." The frame that had introduced itself as Jazz stood, using the wall for support. "What have I go to lose?"

Prowl declined tell the truth of how much this creature with no rights could lose. Euthanasia was the most pleasant option most faced. It was the merciful way to deal with these illegal creations. For all this one knew Prowl was one of those who delighted in cruelty and would drag its end out for vorns of screaming and begging. That was part of the law that Prowl did not agree with. Even a frame with no right to life, no rights at all, should be put down swiftly and cleanly. Some part of him objected to mecha-animals having more rights than something that could talk and reason and had a spark.

It made him all the more determined to treat this Jazz with at least as much respect as he would a pet. That meant not forcing it to walk to the nearest hospital. With a last apprising look at his new non-person servant he called for a transport.

The gesture was a clear shock to the battered mech, and he looked at Prowl as the transport pulled up. "Am I supposed to...?" He started, waving at the transport.

"Get in. The nearest hospital is further than I care to walk," Prowl said as he got in.

Jazz hoisted himself awkwardly into the transport, one knee joint damaged so badly that it barely gave and making motion for the mechling clumsy. With a soft grunt he settled on a seat, his attention focusing on Prowl once he was down.

Prowl was quiet for the ride, though his comm was very active with making arrangements with the hospital, the legal system and making an appointment with a civil contract lawyer.

* * *

The quiet ride gave Jazz more time to study the mech whose hands he had just placed the fate of his functioning in.

Prowl.

Jazz tilted his visor so that his optics were not focusing though one of the cracks, trying to make out Prowl's rank from his limited knowledge. Enforcers were mecha that he had spent his entire functioning trying to avoid. His continued functioning had depended on it.

There was a deep irony in the fact that it was now one proposing to help him.

He ended up not certain of the Enforcer's rank, other than he was definitely not a simple patrol officer and most likely not a shift sergeant either. This one had rank markings Jazz had never seen before, not even at a distance. The mech's field was pulled tight to his plating, so there were no clues there, and while Prowl held himself stiffly there was little tension in it that Jazz could pick up.

Reaching the hospital, a large building that Jazz had never seen before, lead to another painful set of maneuvers for Jazz to get out, which only got more painful on the short walk inside. He collapsed gratefully in the chair that Prowl motioned him to while the Enforcer dealt with the receptionist.

Jazz left it to the Enforcer to see too, well, whatever was going to be done to him. The looks that were cast his way did not escape his notice, but he was careful to not respond to them. He was very aware of what the outside world considered him. The chair he was sitting in had more value than he did, as far as they were concerned.

His wings pulled in tighter. His creators...they had tried. They had loved him. That was a fact that he had never doubted. A fact that he did not doubt even now. They had given him all they could. Maybe they had given him too much. He knew he hadn't been planned, but even as a third creation they thought they could afford to pay the fee before it became an issue with his youngling upgrades. Then his carrier had been in a crash and extinguished and suddenly the credits were tight. Still, his sire hadn't thrown him out or turned him in. He'd done all he could for Jazz, but all too soon there were more issues, a neighbor became angry and suddenly his sire had pressed several credit sticks into his hand, a list of contacts and warned Jazz never to come back because the Enforcers were _watching_ now.

Jazz had obeyed, leaving the small apartment that had been his home and refuge for as long as he could remember and never looked back.

At least with his optics. A small twist of his spark accompanied the memories. His creators. His two siblings who had never treated him like he was different than they were, and had worked to keep him as safe as they could.

The cracked visor went dim as Jazz floated into the memories more. He had tried, doing his best to survive and honor the sacrifice that his family had made for him. But he was so tired...

He hadn't been prepared for existence on the street. The existence of a thief. The reality of not having even as many rights as the stray mecha-animals that shared the streets with him. Hunger was a lesson. A cruel one he still hadn't completely adapted to.

"Jazz. Come." Prowl's stern voice dragged him from his thoughts and he hobbled after the Enforcer to a room with a medical berth, a couple chairs and a desk. "On the berth."

The not-mech paused, looking at the berth that was a little high to be easily accessible for someone his size. After a moment and a shrug he leaned over the berth and hauled his frame on the berth, muting his discomfort as he settled on the soft padding. It was as soft as anything he could remember, even softer than his berth back home, when he'd had a home and a small sound of pleasure escaped him.

It wasn't long before a medic came in, gave a glance at his patient and focused on Prowl.

"He will be in service to me," the Enforcer said before he could be asked. "Repair him."

The medic paused, started by the statement, then nodded and turned his attention to just what he'd be repairing.

The words 'mess' and 'wreck' could be used to accurately describe Jazz's current state. His frame had been in rough shape, and the beating he had received had only made things worse.

"How much repair are interested in having done? Initially it could use an entire exterior repair. Internals look decent enough, besides being underfueled." The medic reported after performing as many scans as he could without having to touch Jazz.

"Bring him up to level 3. He will be acting as a domestic servant and seen in public. I won't have my reputation harmed by whispers of mistreatment," Prowl said firmly.

The medic made some notes, nodding with understanding. "Sensor panels removed?"

If the medic saw the small shiver that went through Jazz's frame at the question, he did clearly did not care. It wouldn't matter to him that the sensors were the last upgrade Jazz had gotten before his carrier had off-lined. An act of defiance against his status, and hope for his future that had been destroyed only a few metacycles after the upgrade.

"Yes." Prowl said firmly. "It is the law."

"Right. So bring him up to code for his age. Remove the sensor panels. Anything else specific you want done to him?" The medic asked, punching in a few more notes.

"No, simply repaired," Prowl said easily.

"Right. Lay down." The medic said, addressing Jazz as though he expected the mechling to be stupid.

There was a brief moment where Jazz almost protested, the tone getting under his plating. But a glance a Prowl and he complied, laying back on the berth and resisting the urge to fight as he put into stasis for the required repairs.

* * *

Jazz was still working on the wonder of not _hurting_ when he followed Prowl into the lift of the building the mech, _they_ , now lived in. It was nice, far nicer than where he'd lived even when both his creators had been living. As the lift continued up, he realized that Prowl must have either serious rank or family wealth to live here. He was left to wonder more in silence of the ride, taking in the subtle signs of wealth that he was rapidly beginning to associate with the mech that had taken him into service. Prowl was important, but he was not one to flaunt it blatantly. The observation was filed away under the growing file that Jazz was gathering on the Praxian Enforcer.

The lift opened into a public hallway, but it only had two doors, one at each end. Prowl headed for the one on the left and it opened to his approach to a spacious, wide open living room that while minimally furnished and decorated, each item was of excellent quality. An entertainment center was at one end, two plush chairs and a couch in an arrangement in the center and a table set for three at the other. There was only one door by the entertainment enter end, and it was closed.

Jazz took in the arrangement, and finally commented on the part that seemed a little out of place to him. "You entertain a lot? Or are there...others?"

It had never occurred to him that Prowl might have family, roommates, or others.

"I entertain on occasion. It is more a matter of hope than need at this point," Prowl answered as he motioned Jazz to follow him towards the door.

Another point to be noted and filed away as Jazz followed obediently behind. The spotless appearance of the apartment was not lost on him, so different from the mild chaos that had been his home. He had heard of mecha who lived like this, with nothing out of place, but he had doubted they were real.

Up until now, that is.

It did not bode well for the ease of keeping this apartment in order, but at least it also meant there wasn't much to be out of place on the ground floor. He'd have to clean more than tidy.

The lift to the second floor opened to a short hallway with two doors on the left and one on the right, and ended in a clear door out to a balcony.

"Your room is the first door, the washrack is the second, and my room is on the right," Prowl said as they stepped out.

"My room?" Jazz repeated, stunned. He'd been hoping for a mat on the floor at most. A whole room to himself was almost more than he could comprehend. It was something that he had never had before.

Prowl gave him a glance. "Were you expecting to be in my berth?"

"No." The instant reply was filled with disgust, Jazz just caught his tone and calmed before he continued. "Was hopeful for a place on the floor, really." He added, softer than before.

Prowl nodded and seemed to relax slightly. "The berth is there. You may as well use it. I expect you to use the washrack as well. You should be as clean as the apartment."

That was enough to make Jazz pause again, looking down his repaired frame. Clean- it had been vorns since he had been constantly clean. Not since he had been forced to leave his home and family behind. And he had to admit that he was actually looking forward to that feeling again.

"Anything off-limits?" He asked, wondering just how much he was going to be given here.

"My berthroom, the high grade and do not take anything from the apartment unless I specifically invite you to. If you wish to use anything that has settings, create your own profile for it," Prowl laid out the ground rules. "When I recharge, I expect silence. You will have more than sufficient time during my shifts to perform all duties I expect of you."

"I-yes. Okay. Do I get a list or something?" Jazz's processor was honestly starting to spin, trying to process all of the sudden change.

Prowl pinged him a file, which was more than just a list. It was directions for how to do everything _right_ , where various supplies were, Prowl's standard schedule, emergency contact information, what constituted an emergency for each of the contacts. "As a lieutenant, I am on call at all joors. While unusual, I will be called out or called to stay past my duty shift an average of 3.4 times per decaorn. You will receive a text notice... are you literate?"

"In basic Cybertonain and Praxian. My crea-" Jazz caught himself. "I have a basic education, yeah."

His creators had encouraged his interest, as much as they could. Anything that he could learn from a program or file in the safe confines of their apartment had been at his fingertips, and Jazz had learned to love things like literature and music, especially music, from very early in his functioning.

"Good," Prowl flicked his wings in acceptance and ignored the slip. "That will make things much simpler. You will receive an automated text notice when I am called to duty and another when I am headed home from such a call. Once you have adapted to my schedule and your duties, education will be added in."

"Thanks." Jazz grunted, looking down, around, anywhere but at the officer standing before him. He had to remember, in the real world he was nothing. Here, he was nothing. No status, no rights, and not even a family he was allowed to refer to.

They were 'real' mecha, after all.

It didn't matter how decently, how like a real mecha with rights and a future this Enforcer treated him as. He _wasn't_ one. Not until he had an aliquis in his hands. Only then did he have any right to anything, even his own life.

"What are you energy levels?" Prowl asked.

"29%" Jazz responded. It was high, to him. The hospital had kept him topped off as much as they dared. He'd been operating on starvation level for so long that much higher and his systems began to reject it, violently.

Prowl's sensor wings twitched unhappily, but he nodded his acceptance. "The primary energon dispenser is in the washrack. There is a small one downstairs as well," he motioned Jazz to follow him to the second doorway on the left. "You may take a cube to your berth until your systems adapt to having energon again and have stabalized. I understand the doctors expect that to take at least a metacycle based on your reactions."

The mention of energon had Jazz's full attention, and the small shudder of relief that ran through his frame was clear. He would no longer have to steal his every meal, or wonder as he dropped into recharge if he would have the strength to boot up again.

"Thank you. The chart thing the doctors gave me at the hospital is easy. I'll use it." He said.

"Good," Prowl relaxed a bit more as the door to the washrack opened and Jazz got an optic full of luxury well in excess of what the rest of the already very nice two level apartment indicated. The shower was large and enclosed, the kind that could clean, wax and polish a mech with little input on the part of the mech. You just had to stand there. There was a station for touching up one's finish and the neatly ordered supplies that matched all of Prowl's colors along with the small brushes to apply them and a 360 mirror room to find any imperfection and fix it.

While that was amazing, things he only knew of from the salons he'd heard about, it was the large, deep depression with stairs and seats that held his attention. That he knew what it was, though he'd never seen one in a home.

A hot oil pool large enough for three adults Prowl's size.

"This is the main energon dispenser in my home. I prefer you to use it," Prowl instructed evenly. "The code for you is in your instruction packet. I will be alerted if you take more than you should need."

"I understand." Jazz said, tearing his attention from the luxuries around him and focusing on the energon dispenser. "I won't." That was a promise he at least felt confident in making. He had stolen to survive, not because he had wanted too. His creators had raised him better than that.

"Do you have any questions before recharge?" Prowl asked.

Jazz thought, considering. Reflexively he tried to tip his sensor wings in denial, only to be reminded once more that the appendages no longer graced his back.

He settled for a small shake of his helm. "No. Not now."

"Then draw a cube and I will see you after my shift," Prowl instructed with a small motion to the dispenser and waited.

Orders, dismissal- Jazz resigned himself to them far more willingly than he would have imagined as he obeyed. It was easy enough to find the code he had been assigned in the information packet, and the dispenser took it readily.

It was the work of less than a klik before the machine offered him a sealed cube of softly glowing high quality mid-grade. Even this was taken with somewhat shaky hands, energon of this quality a rare treat his entire functioning.

"I'll just- be in the room then." He said, not quite fleeing out the door. He was sure he heard the shower turn on, but it was well past anything he really cared about. The door to his room ... _**his room**_ ... opened readily at his approach and graced his already trembling processors with a thick, soft berth with covers that probably cost as much as his carrier earned in a metacycle. Never mind the rest of the furniture, paintings, the crystal decorations, and a half wall of book files.

It was so much. Too much, in a way.

Trying to be sure that his repaired optics were not deceiving him Jazz crossed the room to the berth, reaching out to press down on the plush surface. It gave beneath his hand willingly, Praxian preferences stamped into its very construction.

It almost made Jazz afraid to recharge on it, afraid of damaging things that were not his. For a brief moment he considered the floor once more.

But the berth was so tempting, so inviting- he cracked the seal on the cube, consuming a third of the liquid energy before carefully resealing it and falling on the soft padded surface with a groan of bliss.

Exhaustion set in more quickly that he had expected. Here was the safest he had been since he had left home, and there was nothing left in him to fight off need for rest that fell over him. His optics off-lined and his systems shut down faster than his conscious processor could follow.

* * *

Jazz looked around the main floor room, finally daring to test the one of the codes that Prowl had included in the information packet. It was the access code to the entertainment center, and Jazz was happy when it allowed him in easily. Flipping through the music selections that were there, Jazz selected a classic Praxian piece and set it to play as he started on his chores for the orn.

Dusting and wiping things down was a simple task, and one that allowed his processor to wander as he worked. Prowl had said nothing about the fact that Jazz had recharged for almost two full orns, only waking long enough to fuel, before emerging into 'public' again.

In fact, the Praxian had been gone when Jazz had come out of the room, his room, that orn. The mechling had been surprised to find frame cleaning and polish supplies marked with his designation in the washroom. They weren't of the same quality that Prowl used, but they were still nicer than what he'd had before. He had used them, drawn another ration of energon, and settled to sort through the packet of information that Prowl had given him.

It had explained a lot. 'Do not use my personal items' had explained the appearance of cleaning supplies for Jazz. Codes for general things around the apartment, including the entertainment center, had been there for him use.

Take care of himself. That was a given that Jazz could understand. Stay out of sight when company was about unless invited. That one wasn't as clear, but Jazz just shrugged it off. It wasn't one that he was inclined to challenge, and who was he to argue if the Enforcer had some quirks? With everything that Prowl was giving him- the mech already had a contract drawn up that had been included for Jazz's reference- he'd deal. 1400 vorns sounded like an eternity to buy his freedom, his right to exist, but it was a way better timeframe than his previous options, which were none. There was even a hint in the contract that he might be able to get a First Diploma, maybe even a Second Diploma, by working longer, and he knew he would. His creators had explained just how much that Second Diploma was worth. It was the entry fee into any government job and most jobs anywhere that paid more than subsistence level. If he managed that, he could help out his creator and siblings that had treated him so well.

This was his chance, one he was determined to take advantage of. As far as demands and quirks went, Prowl was low maintenance overall. His standards were a bit ridiculous, but he didn't want anything Jazz objected to doing and that was no small blessing.

The orn passed faster than Jazz anticipated and he had to scramble out of the washrack he was wiping down when he was alerted by a ping that Prowl had entered the building. He tossed the last cloth into the bin for him to wash after Prowl was done with his own cleaning up, and bounded down the stairs too greet his new...something.

Prowl's first response to his presence was to look him up and down, judging, than a slight flick of his long sensor wings indicating acceptance. "Finally caught up on your recharge?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Jazz relaxed a bit at the gesture. "Sorry it took so long. Energy levels better now too." He added, making an assuming leap that the fact was one Prowl would be interested in.

"Good," Prowl said with approval, though he was still stiff as he walked towards the lift. "I will be in the washrack for at least a joor tonight."

"Right. 'Kay." Jazz responded, trailing behind Prowl a bit. "Should I do anything for you? Anything to be ready when you're done?"

He was still learning Prowl, trying to teek him a little so he could maybe piece together more parts of what he had already figured out was a very complex mech.

"Just stay out of the washrack until I come out," Prowl said easily as he stepped onto the lift. "It's been a stressful orn."

"'Kay." Jazz agreed, backing off and logging that feeling under 'leave Prowl alone to relax'. He could entertain himself easily; probably even find something productive too. There was plenty of music, if nothing else. And surely if Prowl owned it he must enjoy it, at least a little. With Prowl out of sight, Jazz felt some tension disappear that he hadn't realized he was carrying. Even after a stressful shift at a high-ranking job, Prowl hadn't come home and hit him, used him to burn off that tension or even yelled about the state of the home or Jazz's frame. It was a good sign.

* * *

Three orns later Prowl found Jazz polishing the high-grade bottles and felt a sensor wing flick in approval. So far his risk to take in this aliquisless spark had turned out to be a good choice. Jazz was competent for his age and background, able to take a list of duties, prioritize them well and learned quickly. He'd had far better paid staff that weren't as acceptable.

"Jazz," he caught the youth's attention.

"Sir?" Jazz paused, helm turning so that his entire focus was on Prowl. He was still working on how to address Prowl on a regular basis, but so far 'sir' had seemed to be acceptable. Settling in was still taking some adjustment, but he no longer felt like he needed tip-toe around.

"Have you thought about the education you wish to pursue?" Prowl asked simply.

"I saw provisions in the contract for up to at least a Second Diploma. I'd like to get that far at least. Then I could maybe make a difference." Jazz admitted, setting down the bottle of high grade that he had been holding carefully.

Prowl canted his sensor wings in approval of the choice. "That will add an additional fifteen hundred vorns to your contract, longer if you do not pass on the first attempt. I will arrange for placement testing and a tutor to come during my regular shift. Is there a job you wish to work towards?"

"Not that I'm sure of right now. Do I need to decide soon?" Jazz asked as he picked up the next bottle and started on it.

"Not until you are halfway through preparing for the Second Diploma tests," Prowl responded. "The content is not going to change before then. I expect five vorns to complete the First Diploma on your displayed education, and an additional fifty to seventy vorns for the Second Diploma if you study as diligently as you have proven capable of."

"I'll have something by then." Jazz promised, watching Prowl out of the corner of his visor for a few kliks and through the cleaning of another bottle before he dared a question. "Is there something you think I should do?

"A job that suits your personality, processor ability and overall goals," Prowl responded, regarding his property thoughtfully. "I do not know you well enough to advise yet."

The mech stuttered in his work for a nanoklik, the brake barely noticeable unless one was paying close attention. Jazz was startled once more by the mech that brought him in.

Prowl was fair, but also very orderly and clearly used to being in control. Jazz had expected Prowl to want to be in control of anything that he was supplying Jazz, work or not, including the direction of any higher education.

"Do you have any questions?" Prowl asked in the pause.

"Have you ever done anything like this before? What you are doing with me?" The question was curious, though Jazz was not sure about receiving an answer.

"I have taken in mecha before, though never one without an aliquis," Prowl admitted as he rested his hip against the cabinet Jazz was working in. Despite the casual pose, he wasn't comfortable in the conversation. "I am ... rescuing you. Some mecha rescue mechanimals, some art, or buildings, or land, or in a group setting. I rescue mecha, one at a time."

Jazz nodded quietly, picking up on Prowl's discomfort and dropping the subject. In reality, by law he was worth less than most of the things that Prowl had listed. As far as most mecha were concerned, Prowl had basically brought trash into his apartment. He felt Prowl pause, waiting to see if he'd speak, then nod and turned away to go upstairs. No doubt to the hot oil pool that Jazz already knew was Prowl's greatest joy in life. The mech worked hard, and he indulged himself just as much when he could. It wasn't a bad system from Jazz's perspective.

* * *

Jazz clamped down on his frustration as he stood in line at the third specialty store on the list. Prowl was hosting a small group of friends, co-workers, some sort of mecha that evening, and had sent Jazz out with a specific list of items to acquire, and the specific locations where he was to purchase each item on the list.

So far it was proving to be the most frustrating assignment that Prowl had given him since the law officer had taken him in. In every shop Jazz had been forced to present the temporary aliquis in its full form multiple times. 

Customers threatening to turn him in for stealing.

Employees believing him to be lying about his authority to use the funds of another to purchase the items that he was holding.

Owners twitching at the initial sight of him even _touching_ their wares.

It was a blatant reminder of his status, or more accurately, lack thereof. A reminder that was thrown at him again as yet another mech tried to cut in front of him in line like he wasn't even there.

He supposed, eventually, the merchants Prowl commonly favored would get to know him and his status as Prowl's pet project and it wouldn't be quite this frustrating. He was sure Prowl had enough status that it didn't pay to aggravate him too much, so the slights would be less time consuming.

For now, he just wanted to snarl and hit the next mecha that tried to act like he wasn't there. An opportunity that came entirely too fast. Instead of moving away, Jazz stepped forward, blocking the mech's way without a word and preserving his place in line. The hand on his shoulder that yanked him hard, spilling the contents of his basket on the floor as Jazz was toppled to his aft more than his height away was the result, and he couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. Frustrated, angry, and upset, but not surprised.

But he had a _bit_ more rights now. He was a being by proxy, a citizen of sorts by virtue of Prowl's connections and credits. He was under orders from Prowl to do this, and by rights, at least as well as he understood them, he had the rights of a drone sent by orders. He had his duty to perform and hindering him was a slight against his sponsor.

What he didn't know was whether the mecha around him, mostly trying to ignore the scene, would recognize who and what Prowl was. His aft smarting, Jazz didn't actually realize that a mech had knelt to pick up some of the items that he'd dropped. The burnished copper, dark blue and red Praxian with a crimson chevron and bright blue optics wasn't looking at him, but everyone was staring at the citizen.

"Sledgehammer, what are you doing?" someone in line scowled at the scene.

Sledgehammer glared over his single-panel sensor wings at the speaker. "Don't you know who Prowl is?" There was a pause that ensured he had the attention of everyone. "Enforcer Lieutenant Prowl of Upper Market District," he spelled out in painfully drawn out glyphs. "You really want to anger _him_ by being petty?"

"Petty?" The speaker repeated, mouth moving faster than his processor. Green optics lit as connections were made and he stared at Jazz.

Jazz wanted to stare back, to demonstrate some sense of the pride in his spark. Pride that was not his to own.

So instead he shifted to his knees, helping Sledgehammer to gather the rest of the items back into the basket.

This time when he stood with his items no one challenged his place in line, and he nodded his head respectfully to Sledgehammer. "The Sponsor will be told of your kindness."

"He is welcome," Sledgehammer replied appropriately before returning to his place in line uncontested.

This time, at least, the rest of Jazz's time in the shop was uneventful. He was through the line, checked out, and on his way in a normal time.

As he exited he checked the list and braced himself. Two more stops, and then he would be back in a place that was starting to feel safe.

He would endure. And he needed to get moving, he noticed when he checked the time. The delays had put him behind, and he still needed to get things ready after he got back before disappearing into his assigned room before the guests arrived. He was very curious who they were and why Prowl didn't want them to see him, but he wasn't about to cross his sponsor over something as unimportant as curiosity. Even with the grief of shopping Jazz had never had it so good and he wasn't going to forget it.

* * *

Jazz was settled in the guest room, silent and with data-files to study and keep himself busy. The table was set, the refreshments were laid out, everything was arranged according to the directions that Prowl had left for him.

His sponsor was very thorough, even in this, and Jazz had followed them to the glyph. He knew that so long as he did so, Prowl would be pleased with his efforts, or at least not displeased with them. It made knowing what do to stay out of his sponsor's ire relatively easy and Jazz was grateful for it. Prowl was a taskmaster with painfully high standards, but he was also extremely predictable and just as explicit in detailing his expectations.

Voices reached his sensitive audio receptors, and he counted them silently to himself. Four, just as Prowl had said there would be, and all of them arriving with Prowl. Also as Prowl said it would be. Though he couldn't catch all the words, especially of the one with the lowest, quiet voice, he did hear enough to have designations or ranks for them after a while.

Captain. No doubt Prowl's Captain, which explained the special energon and care for tonight.

Flyby. The Captain's mate, or at least a common companion.

Stalker. He seemed to be Prowl's date, and kept up far better than Jazz did with the Enforcer shop-talk.

With half an audio Jazz listened as the visitors were offered and accepted some light energon, settling down to continue with the same talk that made little sense to him. Cases, policies, the condition of various districts around the city, up and coming officers, internal discipline, mecha on the Most Wanted list, both of the city and the empire. It wasn't the kind of thing that Jazz thought suited a romantic double date, but he guessed these four probably all worked together and it was less weird to them.

The conversation transitioned to more social events when Prowl's guests took their seats, and continued through the evening meal. Flyby was entering a piece in the upcoming Crystal Festival.

Talk of gifts for the upcoming Solstice celebration. Many, many designations that Jazz didn't know but nothing that surprised those below.

Teasing questions that went unanswered about when Prowl was going to finally ask Stalker to move in. Less teasing but still friendly questions about when Prowl was going to try for a promotion.

The answer to that, _never_ , surprised Jazz to no end.

A mech that had risen this far wanted to go no further? Yet it didn't seem to surprise anyone below, only earning a comment from Captain that Prowl could become Commissioner if he tried. Prowl agreed he could, but he didn't want to. He enjoyed his current post.

It was information that Jazz filed away to consider. It was certainly interesting that Prowl seemed to have no current ambition to rise any higher. His reputation was clearly widespread, at least in his own district. Jazz had witnessed that first hand today.

Mecha could always change of course. Prowl's contentment might not last forever. Circumstances changed as well. Mating, a creation, injury...all of those were factors that might push him to consider moving higher.

The chatting continued, drifting over subjects until the mention of his designation had Jazz's full focus on the conversation.

"How is it adapting to a civilized environment?" Captain asked.

"Quite well. It wasn't always on the street, apparently," Prowl's tone was calm and level. "Someone had taken the time to train some basics. It's even somewhat literate."

Somewhat literate? _Somewhat literate_? His creators had been very thorough in his education! Jazz fumed silently, only clamping down his anger so he could focus on listening to the rest of the discussion about him.

"So you think this one might actually be able to integrate into society? This a large risk Prowl, and surely an even larger financial investment." Flyby commented.

"I do," Prowl said with the kind of certainty that allowed no debate. "It has a good work ethic and only buys what it is sent for. Even faced with violence it did not attack. It is a good start."

"Still this project is going to cost a lot more than your previous ones," Stalker rumbled. "Adult upgrades and an aliquis for an adult is no small investment. Neither are the Diplomas you are so fond of having them get."

"True," Prowl didn't contest the fact. "Yet the social benefit of taking a criminal and turning it into a productive citizen is well worth it. I have not been wrong yet."

"And what do you get out of this? Really?" Flyby inquired, curious as the workings of what he knew was a very complex processor.

"Satisfaction. Proof that the caste and diploma system we have is even more flawed than is generally agreed. It's not as if I have anything more appealing to do with my spare funds." The shrug was audible in Prowl's voice.

With that Jazz gave up trying to read and settled down by the door so that he could listen in on the conversations. He knew that it was considered bad manners to eavesdrop, but he had learned more about his sponsor, and more importantly the way his sponsor thought, in the last joor than he had since he had moved in.

This Enforcer was certainly not the norm in most senses of the word that Jazz understood.

"Seriously?" Flyby's squeak was bordering on rude. "Travel, fine energon, hunting, politics, upgrades, clubs...."

A low rumble that Jazz was fairly sure wasn't Prowl stopped the list.

"I am quite serious," Prowl said smoothly, without any hint that he was as insulted as he had to be. "I do not enjoy traveling, nor clubbing, nor hunting, and definitely not politics no matter how skilled I would be at it," and there was a bit of sharpness. Politics was a sore subject. "If I upgrade any more I will extinguish from the strain on my spark. I already indulge myself in every way that appeals to me. The funds that remain I spend on what makes me feel good. I happen to take pleasure in watching hard work and effort raise mecha from the gutters and crime."

"What made you decide this one was worth the risk?" The voice Jazz had identified as Stalker asked, shifting the subject slightly to something safer.

"The same reason I chose the others. It felt right," Prowl gave roughly the same answer he had to Jazz.

"So how do I feel?" Stalker asked, half serious and half flirting.

There was a pause and Jazz tried to imagine what look Prowl gave to that question. Was he annoyed, shy, flirting back, flaring his sensor wings in a display of pride or possession? The silence gave no answer, and neither, really, did Prowl's softer than usual tone in answering.

"A different kind of right."

The conversation shifted again, the topics drifting around and not enough to really hold Jazz's attention. Returning to the bookfile he had borrowed, he apparently missed the Captain and his companions departure, since the next thing he heard was Prowl leading Stalker up to the second floor. The low rumble of their voices and a few words warned Jazz fast enough that Stalker was going to stay the night, and neither of them intended to recharge much. The first pleasured sound came before the door to Prowl's room even opened.

"Oil first?" Stalked purred, and Jazz suddenly realized that the wall dividing the guest berthroom and the washrack wasn't soundproofed.

"Yes," Prowl's deep, rumbling purr sent a tingle though Jazz's systems that was decidedly creepy.

"Flyby doesn't understand." Stalker crooned, a splash announcing his fall into the oil. "Your taste for quality and perfection over sheer _volume_. And the dedication you put into perfecting what you enjoy. Dedication I get to enjoy."

Prowl's preference for _quality_ was something that Jazz had noticed the moment he had stepped into the apartment. Prowl's tastes might run towards understated and practical, but it was understated and practical of the best quality that credits could buy. It was the second part of Stalker's comment that really caught the mechling's attention though, prompting him to shift over by the wall, his frame warming and shivering with the soft sounds of pleasure reaching his audios.

"While I enjoy the quality and dedication you have as well," Prowl purred in reply before he gave out a small gasp of pleasure. "I do not need him to understand. You do."

"And I enjoy learning. And there is still so much to learn about you. So complex." Stalker continued to tease, whatever he was doing earning sounds of increasing pleasure from Prowl.

The attention, the honest desire, had as powerful a pull on Jazz as the small twinges of charge that were starting in his frame. His visor went dim as his processor started to imagine what was going on in the pool the next room over. Was Stalker playing with Prowl's wings? Touching his frame? Was Prowl returning the attention, or just taking it all in? It had been a long time, not since shortly after he'd fled his creator's home, that Jazz had felt this kind of tingle. He hadn't had the spare energon for it since then. Now though, he was once again well fueled and exposed to the idea.

"So slick," Prowl's moan was deep and resonant, full of enjoyment and arousal.

More than just taking it in. And more than just touching. Those words... the implication... his sponsor was a spike mech from the sound of it. And the soft moan that escaped Jazz was covered by the much louder sound of pleasure as Stalker called out Prowl's designation.

A spike mech, but one that took care that his valve partner was ready and enjoyed the penetration. Jazz shivered again as the pair's voices rose between muting breaks and the clank of their frames coming together, both muted by the oil and not.

"Feels so good," Striker's voice was already crackling with charge. "Love your spike."

"Just my spike?" Prowl's tone was teasing despite how aroused he was.

Striker's reply was a keening cry as Prowl drove into him hard enough for Jazz to hear it clearly.

"More!" Striker managed between the sounds of a forceful but clearly mutual interface, and Jazz found himself pressed against the wall, trying to cool his frame.

He hadn't had many opportunities to try out his interfacing equipment after his mechling upgrades, but the few partners that had been deemed _safe_ for him to play with had made every encounter a pleasurable one. His systems had not forgotten how good it had felt and how much Jazz had enjoyed it. His valve rippled, hot and protesting being empty with the sounds of pleasure so close.

The first scream of overload came from Striker, with Prowl's bellow not far behind, then another keen from Striker.

Then silence but for their roaring engines and the surging fluids in Jazz's frame, all but deafening him to the more tender sounds that came next.

His wings were gone. Touching his own frame wasn't enough. Jazz's spike panel snapped back, his spike extending into his rapidly working hand. With a last coherent thought Jazz muted his vocalizer, silencing the keen of pleasure that came with his own forced release.

Momentarily sated, the mechling slumped against the wall, ignoring for the moment the transfuild staining his frame and the surrounding area.

He had taken care of the charge, but as he listened, it felt more empty than fulfilling. The pair in the other room were lovers, fierce in their passion and taking pleasure in the other's enjoyment. Even quieted down the soft rumbles had affectionate harmonics.

"Berth?" Prowl eventually trilled. "I want to feel your spike as well."

"Oh yes." Stalker answered, his voice eager and full of anticipation. "Wear ourselves out. Nights with you are so much fun."

"If far too rare," Prowl purred as the pair got out of the oil pool. "I do occasionally miss the regular shifts of being a lowly street Enforcer."

"But you wouldn't be _happy_ there either." Stalker pointed out, loud enough to be heard over the hum of the draining oil pool.

"No, I wouldn't be, or I'd still be one," Prowl acquiesced as the sound of draining oil quieted and Jazz heard them walking towards the door.

"Talk more later. Play now." Stalker's teasing comments floated back to Jazz, along with the sounds of playful wrestling. Both engines revved, and Jazz's sensitive audials recognized the matching tones: they had the same upgraded pursuit engines in matching frames. Stalker looked much like Prowl, and had been built for much the same function. Not a great surprise, but it was confirmation that Prowl's lover didn't just know Enforcer business, he was one.

The sounds dimmed further when the door to Prowl's room opened and then shut behind the pair, but for the first time, Jazz was now keenly aware of how little soundproofing there was inside the apartment. It had to be because Prowl wanted it that way. Sound carried better than it did in his creator's apartment, which wasn't nearly of such high quality.

That was something he was going to have to remember as well, if there was anything he ever needed to hide or wanted to keep quiet from his sponsor.

Even now he could hear the sounds of their pleasure, the rumble of engines and the muffled demands. Pleasure he did not want to be tortured by again as he moved away from the wall and flopped on to the berth, deliberately muffling his audios. He sank into an uneasy recharge that way.


	2. Learning to Care

Jazz went to recharge at his usual time and Prowl wasn't home yet. While unusual, it wasn't worthy of his worry. Prowl was sometimes caught up in a case, or paperwork, or meetings with other shifts or districts. It was simply part of reality that Prowl did not have truly steady joors. As an Enforcer he was technically on duty at all times. Jazz had gotten used to the variances in Prowl's schedule over the last dozen vorns.

Then Prowl still wasn't there when Jazz got up. Not unprecedented, but far more unusual. That only happened when something _huge_ went down. Something big enough that he should have heard about it already from his periodic scanning of the news. Interesting and not, Prowl often brought up such current events over meals or in the evening to teach Jazz how to be an aware and informed citizen. Or at least that's what he said. Sometimes Jazz suspected that Prowl simply wanted to talk and the news was relatively safe for him.

The mid-orn news finally told Jazz where his sponsor was and it made his lines run cold.

"Lieutenant Prowl of the Upper Market District was critically damaged while ending the rampage of a tank-former that had already deactivated two Enforcers and damaged six. While details are being withheld witnesses have stated that one leg was crushed under the tread and the other was torn off. Despite that, Lieutenant Prowl maintained his wits and used the position he was in to shoot through the tank-former's less protected undercarriage to deactivate him."

Jazz was frozen in place as he listened to the rest of the report. The details were sketchy, but the reported injuries were enough for concern on his end. While it did not sound as though his sponsor was in danger of deactivating, Jazz was worried about how long it might take to repair Prowl, and if there was any processor damage that was not being reported yet.

He kept more of an audial on the news than usual that orn, but it told him nothing new. He did his duties, even though he was sure that Prowl wouldn't be home tonight, and probably not for several orns at least. If he came home at all. He was stuck with only what he could hear over the public news channels. As a not-mech, he had no right to demand information, even on the condition of his sponsor.

Jazz's recharge that night was restless and uneven. Not even a midnight soak in hot oil did much. He had no idea what Prowl's plans were should something happen to him. It never occurred to Jazz, despite his history.

Dawn brought him awareness and even more restless efforts to not think about the first mech that wasn't close kin to be kind to him. Thoughts of losing Prowl just as he's lost his creator. It forced him to accept that he'd begun to care about Prowl in ways that weren't directly tied to his own survival.

The news didn't get better. The Enforcers were being fairly quiet about it all. They'd released the designations of the damaged and deactivated, and Jazz knew that Prowl was the most seriously injured of the survivors. The only one that wasn't stable yet. That was all he knew, however.

Even maneuvering his way into the private channels that Prowl listened to gained him little more news of his sponsor. There was still no talk of immeadiate deactivation, but there was no other news as well.

As he worked, cleaning things that were already spotless, studying extra just to try and occupy his processors, Jazz still couldn't completely avoid thoughts of few options.

If Prowl were to deactivate...his only choice would be to run. Certainly there was no one else would take a chance on a not-mech. He had gathered that much just from overhearing the conversations Prowl had with mecha when they visited. Not a one failed to ask Prowl about his latest project.

And not one of them seemed to consider the project really worth the effort and resources that Prowl was willing to invest in Jazz.

With that thought hovering in the background of his processor, Jazz diversified his studies to include methods of pure survival. Hunting. Hiding. Methods of self-reliance.

If he was going to find himself on the street again, he was going to be prepared this time. And knowledge was something that he could take from his sponsor without being guilty of theft. How you could one be guilty of taking what had always been offered freely?

He was deep in a practical guide to urban hunting when the main door to the apartment slid open. Startled and wary, Jazz jumped to his pedes to face the door. His entire frame was on edge, tensed and ready to react to any sort of threat. Mentally he cursed himself for not having any sort of real weapon at hand. Even if it was not legal for him to possess them, they were around the apartment and most were not secured. Only the heavy blasters and an acid pellet riffle, Prowl's duty weapons, were locked away, and those only when Prowl didn't have them.

He couldn't hear any pedesteps, and while that wasn't unusual for Prowl, he was sure it wasn't Prowl that had come in. Prowl would have commed ahead to ensure the hot oil bath was ready for him. After all the damage, he'd be _aching_ from repairs.

It wasn't Prowl, but it was a mech that Jazz recognized. Prowl's regular guest and lover entered the apartment, clearing it suspiciously.

Carefully he raised his hands in a show that he was unarmed before calling out to Stalker. "Sir."

The blaster leveled at him for a few spark-stopping nanokliks, then was put away as sensor wings relaxed as he stood upright. "Prowl asked me to check on you. He won't be back for some time, but standing rules continue."

Jazz relaxed as the blaster was stowed away, his processor working through the information that had been offered and formulating a response once he had picked out as much as he could.

"Understood. Things will be ready for his return. There is good news of the Lieutenant?" He might be overstepping a little here, but if he was he hoped that the worst his sponsor's lover would do was ignore him.

"He will recover," Stalker shifted uneasily, his discomfort on display in a way it never would be on the street. "You ... familiarize yourself with massage and basic physical therapy. Prowl will need it." He said stiffly. "He won't stay in the hospital as long as he should." He gave another uneasy shift. "You are authorized to replenish any supplies you need while he is gone."

"Everything will be ready for his return." Jazz promised, already taking inventory of what was in the apartment and composing a list of what would need to be done. "Estimated projection for return?"

Stalker shifted again, his sensor wings displaying his distress but not the cause. He looked nothing like the confident Enforcer Jazz was sure he was. Prowl would tolerate nothing less in a lover. Jazz was sure of it.

"Three decaorns. It should be seven or more, but I know Prowl," Stalker murmured with a mixture of fond frustration and worry. "I will come by at least once a decaorn to check on ... you, the apartment and supplies." He paused again, then leveled his gaze at Jazz. "Prowl said you're smart. Learn how to care for a mech who's had everything below the second to last backstrut joint shredded and rebuilt. I know Prowl. Do it well and he'll knock a century off your ... contract."

The other mech nodded, adding the assignment to the list that he was composing and flagging it as a top priority. "I would have anyway." He murmured quietly, daring to use a personal identification, his optics rising to meet Stalker's.

It made Stalker even more uncomfortable, but didn't get a reprimand.

"I'll be by in a few orns," Stalker said instead and turned to leave, quickly.

Jazz watched him go silently, waiting until the door had closed behind Stalker and the lock had engaged before moving again. It sounded as though he was going to be getting a regular reminder that he was a non-person until Prowl was able to return home. A home that would be ready for him, whatever other mecha might think.

Grabbing a cube of energon, Jazz settled in at the main data console and started several searches. The first was for a run-down on the injuries that Prowl had sustained, in terms that he could understand. The first images were enough to turn his tanks and nearly cost time the first sips of energon that he'd started to drink. The second was treatment during recovery for those injuries, referencing what Stalker had told him to look for.

These would at least be a place to start.

* * *

Jazz silenced the internal alarm he had set for himself as he moved to stand in the main room. Clearly visible but out of the way. Even on the good visits Stalker acted like he was entering hostile territory until he found Jazz. Today would not be a good one.

Prowl was coming home.

Stalker had been by the orn before, just to double check that Jazz had everything arranged as it was supposed to be and ready. Even after three decaorns of seeing and sort of interacting with Jazz on a regular basis the Enforcer was no more comfortable in Jazz's presence. Though now Jazz knew without a doubt it wasn't him but his status. Stalker really didn't know how to deal with a non-mech other than to arrest it and have it put down. Being forced to interact with one, treat it with something resembling respect, was straining on the Enforcer.

It wasn't that much more fun for Jazz, to be honest.

The lift opened and to no surprise the first thing Jazz saw was the barrel of a service blaster. This time however, he also clearly heard his sponsor's voice.

"Really, Stalker, you are overreacting. He's not dangerous."

"They're all dangerous Prowl. You know that." Stalker replied, and Jazz had to muffle a sigh. He was no danger to anyone. Least of all his sponsor.

At least his sponsor seemed to believe that enough to chastise his lover over it where Jazz could hear, because they were both looking at him and Stalker holstered his weapon. Jazz's attention was fixed on his sponsor though, and the fact that the mech was sitting.

Why was he sitting, and when had a chair been installed in the lift?

While he was trying to process that, Stalker stepped out of the lift and Prowl, still sitting in the chair, followed.

So Stalker had been correct. Prowl had signed himself out of the hospital far sooner than he should have, and Jazz was already going over everything he was going to have to do to help his sponsor, adding to it.

"It is good to see you functional." Jazz said, daring to approach now that Prowl was home.

"It is good to be _home_ ," Prowl replied, his gaze sliding across Jazz's frame on reflex and one wing gave a flick of approval before the large hover-chair moved towards the lift to the second floor. "I trust you were brought up to speed on my special needs for the immediate future. My next neural inhibitor is in four joors. Right now, I want hot oil."

"I'll help him until morning," Stalker said firmly, earning only a token non-verbal protest from Prowl.

Jazz had been following along, and he paused, waiting to see what the pair would work out. He wasn't going to stress or irritate his sponsor by making Stalker upset. The mech was in pain, he could see it, and he didn't want to think about the kind of pain that could still leave that visible a mark when there was four joors before the next neural inhibitor could be administered. By all rights Prowl should still be in stasis.

"Jazz can bring things so you don't need to get up," Prowl countered wearily as the lift rose, leaving Jazz on the first floor. "You know how unpleasant pain makes me."

"All the more reason you should have stayed in the hospital," Stalker actually growled. "You should still be in a regen pod and in stasis."

"You _know_ how much I hate those things!" Prowl's voice rose sharply, but rather than disgust, it was fear that colored the harmonics.

So Prowl didn't care for regeneration pods? Jazz contemplated that as he dug into the supplies that had been delivered over the last few orns in preparation for Prowl's return.

The energon additives were placed aside. He would take them up with in energon in a few kliks once Prowl and Stalker were settled in the oil and had started to relax. He set an internal alarm for Prowl inhibitor, making sure that was at hand. The timer would go off five kliks before it was due, which should be enough time for him to have it up there and ready before Prowl started to experience any more discomfort than he had to.

Other than that, he would simply be at the beck and call of his injured sponsor, taking care of whatever Prowl needed. Humming to himself, he grabbed the energon and additives for Prowl and energon for Stalker. With a pause he considered the tray, then reached for a small selection of treats Prowl kept on hand. The bulk were of the kind Prowl normally enjoyed. Jazz thought they went down like battery acid, but Prowl would indulge in them regularly. Smaller boxes contained what Prowl craved when he was recovering, which were almost too sweet for Jazz and had the strangest texture, but who was he to judge what a successful mech liked? He added several of those to the tray. Stalker's preferred rust sticks were added next. Warming Prowl's energon and mixing in his favorite recovery blend, which made it thick and sweet, came last.

With everything to his satisfaction Jazz headed upstairs. He'd been able to hear everything the pair did and it wasn't nearly as much fun for either as Stalker's usual stays. Just on sound Jazz knew it had taken his entire prep time just to get Prowl in the hot oil and they still weren't settled. Stalker was fussing too much.

For a klik he hesitated outside the door, then decided he didn't care if his appearance bothered Prowl's lover a little. Prowl was the mech that he had to worry about pleasing, and it was obvious that Jazz was a point of contention between the pair, however much Stalker seemed to understand Prowl.

The door slid open to reveal Prowl settled in the large pool and Stalker still on the edge, hovering.

"Prowl." Jazz called softly, trying to make a little bit of a point to Stalker by addressing his sponsor by his designation instead of his proper title.

"Set it where I can reach, Jazz," Prowl's reply was weak, exhausted and pained, and the mech didn't look at him. Yet nothing in the tone was rejection or annoyance. Prowl didn't want to move and if he didn't have to he wouldn't. This might be the worst he'd been injured during Jazz's stay, but it wasn't the first time. The mech had a tendency to injury stopping events when it got out of control.

Stalker barely gave Jazz a glance, but did perk up slightly at the sight of warm spiced energon for Prowl and the right treats.

Jazz obediently set the treats well within Prowl's reach, but out of the way where they would not get in the way. "I'll bring the neuro block up when it is time. Is there anything else I can get for you now?"

"No," Prowl let out a contented sound as Stalker handed him the warmed spiced energy to cup in both hands. "You are free until then."

"Yes sir." Jazz agreed, rising smoothly to his pedes. He looked over the injured mech once, taking it all in again, before departing the room. Prowl's visible, upper frame was in good shape. He looked uninjured like this. Jazz knew better.

Some soft music and the datafile on re-purposing scavenged materials that he had been working through would fill the time until Prowl was due for his next block well.

* * *

"Energon or therapy after the block?" Jazz asked as he approached Prowl on the second morning after Prowl's return. The injured Enforcer had spent the first orn just settling back in under Stalker's watch. But the other Enforcer couldn't stay forever, and had left early that orn for his duty shift. Until Prowl recovered, Jazz would not have a solid night's recharge. The timing on the blockers prevented it.

"Therapy," Prowl decided as he used his arms and sensor wings to leaver himself up so Jazz could place the blocker on his mid-back.

"Works for me." Jazz agreed as he removed the spent block and replaced it with the new one. Once Prowl signaled that it was placed and working Jazz turned to the therapy kit that had been delivered before Prowl had arrived home. He'd sorted it the orn before, and it was the work of only a few kliks to lay out the components for easy access while Prowl settled on his back.

Lubricants, oil, and applicators arranged he looked to Prowl. "Ready?"

"Yes," he answered. While there was no doubt he wasn't looking forward to it, he loosened his armor and fluffed it out as far as possible to make the application easier and more effective.

Jazz started in slowly, applying the conditioning oil to the exposed joints and points. It was slow and exacting working, demanding most of Jazz's concentration.

Everything that had been repaired and rebuilt needed attention so that when Prowl systems had re-integrated the repairs and the controls they would be ready. Jazz also had to check and make sure that all of the self-repair was continuing on track and normal. A medic visited each orn to check, but Jazz wasn't going to ignore the opportunity to check.

And all of it had to be done with Prowl's comfort in mind.

It wasn't easy, and it was made all the more difficult by the stoic nature of his sponsor, but Jazz did his best. It would have been so much easier if he could have been submerged in the stuff, but that wasn't an option at home. The pleasure the attention generated in Prowl's frame was unsettling to Jazz, though he did his best to hide it. He had no personal attraction to his sponsor, but it was hard to ignore the pleasure that spread through Prowl's field and brushed against his own as he worked. 

It helped that Prowl was doing his best to ignore it and when he could no longer, when the spike cover slid open without command, he spoke. "From physical stimulation only. The frame is hardwired to respond."

Jazz paused for a klik, processing that before he nodded. "So just keep going?"

"Yes. Ignore any responses that are not pain," Prowl said firmly.

With a deep vent Jazz obeyed, working the oils and lubricants deep into Prowl's hip joints, working around the lower frame and trying to not pay too much attention to the erect spike and physical arousal lapping at him across their fields. He purposefully left the most intimate and unsettling part for last as he prepared the long, soft-bristled pipe-cleaner like brush.

A glance at Prowl showed his sponsor's features to be tight and he closed his optic covers as the valve cover slid open.

As he applied a generous amount of the special lubricant to the brush and began to work on the Praxian's valve, Jazz started to talk. It was an effort to distract himself, and Prowl as well. "Why don't you stay in a care facility until you are completely well?"

"I learned that the stress of being in an unfamiliar and unsecured environment causes more harm than the care provides help. I recover faster at home," Prowl answered, his voice level and at complete odds with what his frame was indicating.

"How long did it take you to discover that?" Jazz asked, adding more lubricant for the second application, and glad that he was almost done with that task.

"My first serious injury. I was in regen for a decaorn, ICU for two more and a care facility for a metacycle before they sent me home to have home-care visits. The recovery process took twice as long as it should have in the hospital and went twice as quickly as expected here," Prowl explained. "I can't relax there."

"I guess that makes sense." Jazz conceded as he set the brush aside. He would clean everything he was using later, and prepare it for Prowl's next session. He selected a fine applicator next, drawing up the specially labeled lubricant and moved around to the extended spike. The surge of pleasure across Prowl's field was hard to ignore, but as clearly as Prowl was trying to, Jazz would manage. It was the least he could do given Prowl wasn't even hinting that he wanted Jazz to tend to it.

Prowl let out a sigh of relief when Jazz put the applicator away and stood.

"I'll be back in a joor to help you into the pool, if you wish," Jazz offered.

"Definitely," Prowl's voice expressed his anticipation of sinking into hot oil. The warmth, extra support for his frame and general lubrication the oil provided were all a source of relief and pleasure.

"Or..." Jazz hesitated for a moment, glancing at the dirty brushes and applicators, then looking back at the injured mech. "I can massage your wings and frame. My family...they always seemed to appreciate it."

"I would like that," Prowl rumbled in anticipation. "The blockers do not give much relief for tension in my upper frame."

With some help Prowl was shifted into a position that gave Jazz much better access to his back and upper frame. Once he was sure that Prowl was stable Jazz went to work. Slender fingers worked skillfully into the seams around the sensor wings and between the armor plats, messaging and caressing the wires and receiver nodes located below. 

The easing of the tension and the soft sounds of pleasure brought back memories, and Jazz's field stuttered just a little. His carrier used to sigh and melt when Jazz would do this for him after a full orn of work. His sire...sometimes his sire only seemed to be able to recharge if Jazz could loosen the tension from his wings and lower frame. It was one of the few things that Jazz had felt he had been able to contribute.

The flares and slowly relaxing flow of Prowl's field was much like his sire's when Jazz did this, and from much the same cause. Physical strain, punishments a frame wasn't intended to endure forever. Yet while work caused both kinds of tension and damage, Prowl would recover fully.

"Any place in particular to work on?" Jazz asked as Prowl relaxed under his hands. He was noting what touches had more effect than others, which ones that Prowl responded to more. But it never hurt to ask, and this gave the Praxian a chance to name any areas off limits as well.

"The wing joints and neck cables, please," he groaned shamelessly in pleasure at the touch. His frame was already relaxing into a recharge shutdown as effectively as a very good frag.

Jazz couldn't help but chuckle a little as he shifted his focus. It felt good, making Prowl feel like this. "I can stop if you fall into recharge, and still come back to help you into the pool when it is time." He offered.

"Good plan," Prowl murmured, his field unfurling to lap and caress Jazz's with the greatly enjoyed platonic pleasure of the touch. "What were they like, your family?"

For a moment Jazz wondered if the blocker was messing with Prowl's processors as well. The Praxian had never really expressed an interest in Jazz's family before. But there was no harm that Jazz could find in telling Prowl of them. "My carrier was a courier. Always a in a good mood. Laid back and cheerful." Jazz said, smiling a little at the memories. "He is the only reason I am functioning at all. He was...an eternal optimist. And the most handsome mech I have ever met."

"Did you inherit your looks from him?" Prowl asked, only half aware of himself and very content to be that way.

"Mostly, yes. My sire is a warehouse worker. A heavy lift mech. Both of my older siblings resemble him much more closely." Personally, Jazz suspected that was because his sire had been a little more involved during the creation of his siblings, but that was a fact that had never been suggested aloud by anyone, and Jazz had never felt anything but love and affection from the mountain of a mech that was his sire.

"Then I agree that he was quite attractive. Do you know why they kept you as long as they did?" Prowl murmured, genuinely curious.

Sadness answered the question before Jazz spoke. "Like I said, my carrier was an eternal optimist. He was sure that one orn they would be able to save enough to pay for my citizenship, and that I would be able to live as a normal mech. They were close, before the accident." Jazz continued quietly. "That pile-up on the main through way a few vorns before you found me? He...was caught up in it. And didn't make it out. All of the savings were wiped out paying for his funeral, but the real trouble for me only started when a neighbor was offended by something and tipped off officials. My sire had no choice. It was turn me out or turn me in. I knew even as a youngling what being turned in meant."

"Mmm, possible, if he hadn't been deactivated," Prowl admitted drowsily. "Though a third creation for such a low-income family would have been very difficult. Do you resent him at all for turning you out?"

"Of course not. He really didn't have any other choice. He wasn't willing to hand me over to be put down, and he didn't have the funds to pay the fines and buy my citizenship. He was at least trying to give me a chance to continue functioning, slim as it was." Jazz replied softly, fingers working into the thick cables of Prowl's neck.

A low hum came in response as Prowl's field continued to smooth out, sinking into a relaxed, pain-free recharge.

Jazz smiled to himself, pleased with his work. Backing away silently he gathered up the supplies that needed cleaned and checked the time until Prowl had wanted to head to the oil. He would come check on him then, though if the Praxian was still peacefully in recharge Jazz was inclined to leave him to rest until he woke on his own, or it was time for his next blocker, supplements or energon.

* * *

Energon in hand, Jazz retired quietly to the room that was his. Stalker was over for the night, and the last thing that Prowl and his lover needed was Jazz under-pede. Both had been waiting, rather eagerly if Jazz's suspicions were correct, for Prowl to regain enough control of his frame and reaction for them to share even a little bit of pleasure again.

That had apparently been this orn, since Prowl had commed Stalker as soon as the medical technician had departed that morning, and then promptly sent Jazz out with a list of supplies to acquire before company arrived that evening. Included on that list was one very telling item: interface lubricant. Embarrassing as it was, Jazz couldn't begrudge his sponsor a bit of enjoyment after two decaorns of being heavily dependent on others for pretty much everything.

Yet during that time Jazz had come to see Prowl as a mech far more than he thought was a good idea. Prowl had dreams, faults, desires and more honor and self-restraint than Jazz liked to think about. Jazz honestly wasn't as sure as he wanted to be that he wouldn't have at least asked for relief after being aroused like that six times an orn.

Only now Jazz got to listen to the pair moan and gasp as they renewed their physical connection, and it was mostly Prowl doing the moaning. He smiled, sipping at his energon and mostly tuning out the sounds. It was a skill he had gotten rather good at since his arrival, and he was proud of the fact that he could listen without reacting uncontrollably as he had that first orn Stalker had stayed over. It was rather like listening to his creators now. He knew what was going on, but he wasn't aroused by it.

The little bit of attention that he left trained on the pair was enough to alert him instantly when the noise changed, and not in a good way. Energon and file were forgotten as Jazz left his room and rushed to Prowl's berthroom door, with no care to as whether he might be wanted or needed. Stalker was still cursing as he stood and forced his half-built charge to shunt to secondary systems until it was absorbed. Even at a glance Jazz knew that his spike didn't retract naturally. His focus was on Prowl, however, but his sponsor was quiet, if annoyed, and clearly just as aroused as his lover had been.

Stalker shot Jazz a look of frustration mixed with a charge he couldn't release. "I got called in. You will take care of Prowl."

"I-" The rest of Jazz's reply was lost as Stalker brushed past him, the mech's departure rude but rather expected given the circumstances.

For a long, awkward moment Jazz stood where he was, the sounds of Stalker departing clear through the apartment. It was only when the auto-security informed him that the entry door was closed and locked once more that he looked to Prowl. "What should I do?"

Prowl x-vented a deep sigh. "Prepare the hot oil. I'm sure you will hear when I'm done here."

The mechling hesitated, optics scanning the Praxian carefully before settling on the quivering spike. As much as he didn't want to obey Stalker, Prowl was sort of his charge right now. "Are you sure..."

Ice blue optics, paled almost to white with the charge, focused on him. "Unless you _want_ to be with me, I'll see to it."

Jazz took the offered out without another question, fleeing to the washrack and his assigned task of preparing Prowl's bath. He could hear the stroke of a hand, the gasps and grunts from the other room. He could picture it in his mind exactly what was happening. He'd seen Prowl's equipment up close and personal enough times. The long, grunting groan of release came quickly, then silence.

That was the signal that he had been waiting for. Checking the oil again he made his way into the other room. "Ready for an oil bath? After a little clean-up?" Jazz asked, glancing over the small mess.

"Very ready," Prowl agreed, physically sated and relaxed in Jazz's presence despite the situation.

Jazz pulled out some pre-treated cleaning cloths he had brought with him, wiping Prowl down calmly and practically. It was a simple matter then to help the Praxian up and into the washroom and the bath.

The sigh that escaped Prowl as he sank into the oil was a familiar sound, Jazz steadying him until he was well settled.

Only then did Jazz speak. "Thank you."

Half lidded optics looked up as they powered up. "For what?"

"For not making me follow through with Stalker's orders." Jazz explained as he set a cube of warmed energon near Prowl, the sweet spicy variety that the Praxian preferred when recovering mixed perfectly.

Prowl hummed and took the cube, sipping on it as his field smoothed out to a pleasant sensation. "He can't completely grasp it, but you are a mecha and I would be doing neither of us any favors if I did not treat you as such. It's not very pleasant either, when the other party is not pleased to be there," he added softly.

"Is there anything else I can get you now?" Jazz asked, his field smoothing out in a calm match to Prowl's. "Will Stalker be returning tonight?"

"No, this will be all until it's time for me to recharge," Prowl said calmly, his optics dimming as he relaxed in the hot oil with his favorite energon mix cupped between his hands. "I would be surprised if he did. There was a breakout from a medium security facility. It typically takes orns to catch everyone again. Until then, everyone pulls double and triple shifts."

"How dangerous is a break-out like this?" Jazz asked, settling at the edge of the pool. If Prowl didn't want company the Praxian had never hesitated to dismiss him. Sometimes it seemed as though Prowl liked having someone around just to talk to, and Jazz was starting to find that he liked being that mech when Prowl was in the mood.

"Mmm, for the general citizenry, it is not very dangerous. Medium security does hold some murders, but they are those that murdered with provocation and are unlikely to strike out at strangers. Most are non-violent offenders," Prowl explained. "Any who have a known grudge from an escapee have been notified and have Enforcer protection if they wish it."

"How often does something like this happen?"

"During my existence, once every one hundred and three vorns. Historically, once every century and a half," Prowl rattled off without thinking, the statistics something he had readily available to him. "Most are lesser incidents with one or two prisoners escaping from a low security center. An escape of this type with a dozen prisoners in a medium security facility happens less than once a millennia."

"So not very often." Jazz concluded, rising smoothly. "Good to know. I'll leave you to the oil, until you call?"

"All right," Prowl murmured, his optics going him as he sank into the oil a bit further, very willing to relax fully.

* * *

The first evening that Prowl walked himself to the dinning table and didn't look like he needed help doing so was a bright moment for Jazz. It meant many things, but most critically his stir-crazy sponsor would soon be back at work. He set the table with Prowl's favorites and a simple cube of regular grade for himself and turned over all he'd learned about Prowl in the past metacycle. Things that he had answers for and things he didn't.

The hatred of regen pods. Why there hadn't been any family visiting, or even calling to check in. The reason why the entire apartment lacked soundproofing. Just what Stalker was to Prowl. If Prowl even thought of sparklings or bonding.

"What do you like to do? Outside of work?" Jazz asked, curious as he sipped at his evening energon. Prowl often had company, but all of his company seemed to be co-workers, or mecha related to his profession.

"I race, study martial arts, visit many of the museums and gardens." Prowl chuckled lightly. "I am typically Praxian in most ways."

"By yourself? With friends? ...family?" Jazz pressed a little more.

Prowl's long sensor wings flicked in surprise. "I'm an Enforcer."

"I know." Jazz replied, optics and field flickering as he tried to process that answer in context. "What does that have to do with who you spend your free time with?"

"It has to do with family. Enforcers are sparked, not kindled," Prowl explained gently. "My family are my co-workers. It is difficult to have a friend outside the force. Few understand that we are legally on duty at all times."

"Sparked?" Jazz repeated, then shivered. "You don't have a family." The glyphs and subharmonics surrounding his statement making it clear that he truly believed that. To someone who was a kindled mech, the idea was disturbing.

"Only batchmates and coworkers," Prowl agreed, unconcerned by the lack of something he'd never had and never needed. "You find it that unsettling that I was raised differently than you?"

"A little." Jazz admitted. "I don't know much about sparked mecha, except that they are different."

"We come into existence with a purpose and a spark suited for that purpose," Prowl told him. "It is the only fundamental difference I have determined. You were taught how to be a mecha and why you exist by those who cared for you, as was I. To be honest, I have always felt a little sorry for kindled mecha that you do not mature with a clear sense of your future and function."

"To be loved? To live, to learn, function. To pass that on to those who come after." Jazz said. "Isn't that enough?"

That was what his carrier had always told him, when Jazz had started to ask why they kept trying, even when it seemed so hard to go on.

"Is it fulfilling?" Prowl asked.

"It was for me." Jazz decided. "I was happy there."

"Happy is not the same as fulfilling," Prowl said rather gently. "Though I understand how you would have no way to know the difference. A fulfilling function is one where you look forward to going to work, and feel just a tiny bit sad when your shift is over and it is time to leave. It is being productive and relishing that. It is sadly rare among kindled mecha to have a fulfilling existence in my experience."

"Then what do they have?" Jazz demanded, bristling at the implication that kindled mecha were something to pitied.

"They survive, they create more mecha with no clue what will give them joy in their function. I do not understand why they would want to have a creation, invest so much energy into it, only to have it face an existence of work it does not enjoy," he admitted. "It seems cruel to the creation."

For several kliks Jazz just stared at Prowl, frozen in shock. "So you think the be all and end all to functioning is _work_?"

"No," Prowl said simply. "If I did I would not have a lover, such a nice place to spend my down time, nor would I take on projects such as yourself. What I have is a function, work, that I enjoy and find fulfilling. I seriously doubt your creators could say the same."

"Not about their work. But they both said their function in life was their family. They were happy. We were happy. It was-." Jazz broke off, flustered as he tried to put into words what he felt but couldn't explain.

"Their existence was, at best, only half as enjoyable and fulfilling as mine, because they did not find their work fulfilling," Prowl said gently. "It saddens me that mecha are forced to work to support their function. It seems wrong to me, to kindle knowing you are condemning a new, innocent spark to the same drudgery because you know no better and believe no better exists. Half their orn, maybe more, only happened to enable the other half to be less grim. It's not right. Society would be much better off if everyone had fulfilling work. That can't happen in a kindled society. Not even all mecha can find work of any kind in such a society."

"So you think everyone should be like you." Jazz concluded, a little sadly as he challenged Prowl. "Created only with and for a purpose? And are all sparked mecha perfect for their function? Fulfilled by it and happy with it?"

"All I know of," Prowl said. "I have never encountered a kindled mecha that felt that way about their work. What is so good about working only to survive, when it's possible to love your work and down time from the moment you first come on line?"

"And sparked mecha, do any of them have families? Bond? Create?" Jazz pressed.

"Yes, some do bond. I have never heard of a sparked mecha agreeing to kindle, but we do raise the next generation of sparked mecha," Prowl answered. "Family is not a term we use, but we have social structures that serve a similar purpose."

"Yet you're sure that kindled mecha aren't happy and are missing out on something." Jazz pointed out softly as he finished off the last of his energon.

"From experience," Prowl pointed out. "Even by your description your creators were missing out on what sparked mecha have. A love of their job."

"Maybe. But from what you say, sparked mecha do know not know the joy of creating, or being created." Jazz agreed. "Maybe...that is how it is supposed to be."

"If that is the advantage your kind has, I will stick with missing out on it and enjoying both my work and my down time," Prowl accepted the possibility. "I suppose it is good that kindled mecha do not resent sparked mecha for what we have."

"It is hard to resent someone for having something that we don't know that we are supposedly missing." Jazz replied, relaxing now that it seemed they had both found some sort of understanding and acceptance on the matter.

"True enough," Prowl agreed with an easy cant of his long sensor wings. "Had you put any thought into what you wished for a bonded?"

"A little." Jazz admitted, his field taking on a rare, shy feeling. "I imagined someone like my carrier. Kind, funny, gentle. He could calm my sire out of the worst of his moods in a few kliks."

Prowl offered a soft smile. "You don't seem to be the type that needs calming. Those are good traits in a mate, though. An easy mecha to live with."

"I was accused of being excitable. And my carrier used to tease that I was too smart for my own good." Jazz mused. "I didn't have a lot to go from either. My social contact was very limited, for obvious reasons." He paused. "What about you? Do you look for more than close friends?" he asked, turning the conversation back to Prowl.

"A rather odd question, given you know of my relationship with Stalker," Prowl gave a curious lift to his sensor wings. "I do not look beyond my friends because I believe that for a romance to be solid it must begin with a solid friendship. First and foremost, I want someone who understands and accepts the reality of my function. Not simply that I am sparked and all that brings with it, but that I am never fully off duty and I love my function. A shared interest in things to do in our time off and similar financial morals are also important. Compatibility in interfacing is rather critical as well."

The answer, so typical of what he had come to expect from his sponsor, had Jazz chuckling a little. "I should have asked if you have ever considered or desired more than a close friend. You said that some sparked mecha bond. Is it something you want?"

"Yes, I desire a mate," Prowl said firmly. "Bonding it is not a desire of mine. I have long been quite content to have a mate and no more. However it is not something I object to if it was important to my mate and I agreed that we have that level of commitment. So far that has not happened, likely because most of those I associate with and thus draw mates from are fellow Enforcers. While not explicitly forbidden, it is discouraged because of the long-term impact. A mate you will grieve for but move on. A broken bond is never fully recovered from."

"I know." Jazz murmured, the wave of sadness that washed through more than could be contained. "I doubt my sire will last more than a vorn or two, now that I am no longer there."

"He was continuing for you?" Prowl asked gently.

"I think so. He took the loss of my carrier very hard. We all did, but his world - it ended that orn." Jazz explained. "When he pushed me out the door, I had the feeling it was the last time I would see him."

Prowl fell silent as he sipped his cube, now almost finished, before finally coming to a decision. "Do you want him to know what happened to you?"

"I- would you do that?" The question was barely audible, the hope behind it heavy. Jazz doubted it would slow his creator's return to the Well. It might even encourage it. But if he could give the mech that had given him life peace, it would be worth it.

"Yes, I would, if you believe it would not be too traumatic for him to see an Enforcer Lieutenant at his door," Prowl lifted his sensor wings in a brief confirmation.

"I would have him know that I am still functioning. And that I have a chance. An honest chance. That is important." Jazz pressed, his field earnest. "How the message is delivered is up to you. Please."

"He will know, soon," Prowl promised. Even though it was a promise that his legal and moral protocols said was not binding it was not one he had any intention of breaking. "What is his designation?"

"Deadlift." Jazz replied. "The last apartment was at the edge of the Dock District. Block 3. Number 3419."

Prowl paused as he accessed the citizenry datapad, then brought up and image of a heavy lift mech. "Is this your sire?"

Jazz froze, then nodded. "Yes. That's him." He didn't bother trying to hide the longing or affection he felt at the image.

"Good," Prowl flicked his sensor wings and turned the image off. "I will speak with him soon. Is there anything else you would have him told?"

"Thank you." Jazz concluded. "Anything else that you wish to tell him would be up to you. And- thank you." The latter clearly directed at Prowl.


	3. To Function as an Adult

After almost forty vorns Jazz had his cleaning chores streamlined to the point they took up less than a third of his orn, even with the additional tasks that Prowl had trusted with him. Not that Jazz squandered his free time.

Prowl had been as good as his word, or better in everything. Jazz's First Diploma was his in everything but actual ownership. Only a registered citizen could claim a formal education, but Jazz had passed all of the tests, and the completed title was just waiting on him earning his aquis. Studies for his Second Diploma were proving even more interesting than the first ones, and so long as Prowl did not require extra work of him Jazz tried to devote a third of his waking time to schoolwork.

The rest of the orn was spent with Prowl, seeing to Prowl, and whatever down time Jazz had around those tasks.

Life had settled with his sponsor as well. Though it was not something to admit aloud, or even anything that Jazz was openly admitting to himself, to Jazz Prowl was family now. He willing went out of his way to make the Enforcer's life as comfortable as he could, noting small things that pleased Prowl and following through on them.

Like taking a cube of Prowl's preferred evening energon to him before he settled in the hot oil to unwind from the orn. Having dinner waiting if there was no word that Prowl was going to be late. Leaving a note when he saw something he knew Prowl would like. Even treating Stalker with similar care when he came over. In the last decade it had even evolved into trailing after Prowl when the Enforcer went to museums, art galleries, racetracks and all manner of other cultural events that were more for Jazz's benefit than Prowl's, even if Prowl did enjoy it.

The more effort Jazz put into quietly doing more than asked, the more he was rewarded just as quietly with outings and little gifts. The most exciting, or at least one of the most exciting, was when Prowl had poured a small cube of fine high grade for Jazz as they talked late into the night one time. Jazz could still taste the smooth flavor, and the way it had been enough to warm him tank without clouding his processor at all as he savored each sip.

To Jazz it had been another measure of acceptance from Prowl. Another gesture that said he was more than a possession, or a nameless creature. Even if Prowl did not know, his act had been one of acceptance of Jazz as a responsible, thinking mechling on the verge of his adult upgrades. Personally, Jazz was quite sure that Prowl was fully aware of what the act implied to Jazz.

He listened to the news when a special report came on and tensed when he heard that there was an armed standoff going on. Prowl was on duty, and it was in his district. Knowing the enforcer like he did, Jazz was sure that if Prowl wasn't already in the thick of things, he would be soon. The odds of him being home on time plummeted and Jazz altered his plans accordingly. He also kept a closer audio on the reports and tuned in the Enforcer bands that Prowl's home had access to.

Blaster fire. Orders. Civilians damaged. Enforcers damaged, though none were critical. It lasted far longer than normal and Jazz had to wonder what the criminals had that could hold off the Enforcer's arsenal. The last time anything this serious had happened it was a rouge military tank-former and Prowl had nearly deactivated. That memory was still enough to send a shudder through Jazz. Prowl's recovery had been long and intense, and Jazz would prefer not to have endure something like that again. And duty or not, he was sure that Prowl would rather not have to endure it either.

He wondered in passing if the criminals had hostages, or were somehow using civilians as shields. That would be enough to push the Enforcers to measures of caution.

 _Enforcer down! Enforcer down!_ someone's not-quite panicked call over the emergency band twisted Jazz's gut. He knew by now that it didn't mean that someone had been hit, but that someone was critical and needed attention beyond first aid right away.

He offered a prayer to Primus that it was not Prowl, and settled down to listen. His tanks were churning with worry, and experience had taught that to do anything but wait and listen now would only spell disaster.

It was early morning, even earlier than Prowl normally booted up for his shift, when the main door to the apartment opened, startling Jazz out of a dazed doze. He lunged to his feet, optics focusing in on the figure entering the apartment. The instant tension gave way to sagging relief as he took in Prowl- dirty and dented, splattered with energon and worse for wear, but whole and functioning.

Or maybe not entirely functioning. Relief gave way to concern as Jazz approached his sponsor, noting just how _off_ Prowl looked and teeked. "Prowl?"

"Stalker deactivated," he answered, his sensor wings beginning to tremble now that he was home and it was safe to show his emotions. "He didn't make it."

For a nanoklik Jazz froze, the news not what he had been expecting. Not that he really knew what to expect in situations like this.

"Clean up." He suggested firmly, crossing the rest of the distance to his sponsor and reaching out, stopping just shy of touching Prowl. "Clean-up. Energon. Recharge. How long until you are back on duty?"

Not that there was anything he could really do about it, but if they weren't going to give Prowl some time off given the situation, Jazz was sure he was going to have to find _something_.

"Three orns, then a psych eval. I'll pass it," Prowl willingly followed Jazz's lead, his field reaching out to latch onto something familiar and safe to ground him and steady his shaky processors.

Jazz grunted, not convinced but not about to argue with Prowl in the state the mech was in. Instead his field reached out, welcoming and warm with the reassurance that Jazz was here, and not planning to go anywhere.

He led Prowl to the washroom, turning on the solvent and directing Prowl under it before grabbing scrubs and starting on the Praxian's frame. As he worked he concentrated on staying near, calm, and supportive. His own thoughts and concerns could wait. Right now his sponsor was in no condition to think, and just the fact that Jazz could teek him at normal range was proof of that. Yet in that there was also proof that Prowl liked Jazz, trusted him, felt safe around him. It felt good to know that. 

It also felt good to know that his touch in cleaning Prowl soothed the mech. So he focused on that, humming softly as he removed all the traces of energon and battle that could be handled by a wash. "Rinse and dry." He prompted gently when he was done. "Oil, or berth?"

Either way Prowl would be getting some energon in him before he recharged.

Prowl was silent for a lingering moment. "Berth," he decided as the rinse cycle cleaned the suds off, then warm air blew around him to dry his plating. He was scuffed and scratched, but it was nothing that couldn't be dealt with later.

Jazz field reached out to brush against his with promise. "Head that way. I'll be back with energon in a klik, and stay if you want."

Prowl gave a small, trembling wave of those lovely, long sensor wings and turned to go to his berth. His steps were slow, methodical, lacking the grace he had even when physically damaged. The emotional pain tore at his processors, threatening to shut him down from the overload of error messages from his emotional center and logic chips interacting, and even more from his spark that nothing could shut away.

When Jazz returned with heated, sweetened energon and a small box of soft jellied sweets that melted below frame temperature he saw Prowl standing, his sensor wings quivering in distress as he looked in from the door to his room.

"My berth?" He suggested quietly, his field as soothing as he could make it. It might not be perfect, but anything that would get Prowl to rest was worth it right now.

Prowl quivered, then looked at Jazz with optics that Jazz knew all too well from losing his carrier. He'd seen them in his sire more orns than not.

A slow nod and Prowl turned to go to the other door. When Jazz got close to follow him inside, he teeked the thanks and relief that Prowl couldn't yet express mixed in with the intense loss of watching his lover extinguish. It would never stop hurting. That was something else Jazz knew. But one could move on, and the hurt would fade a little, overshadowed by the good memories and time. Prowl had hinted that he'd lost someone close to him before, quite possibly repeatedly, so the Enforcer knew how to move on and had the will to. It would just take some time.

This time Prowl moved to the berth with less hesitation, the smaller surface still comfortably large enough for the two of them to share. Jazz pressed the energon on Prowl as soon as the Enforcer was seated, wanting to get it in Prowl before the mech collapsed physically as well as mentally. The cube was accepted with a brush of thanks from Prowl's field and was cupped in both hands as he drank. The warm, sweet mixture did its trick and Prowl began to relax towards recharge shutdown.

"Stay?" Prowl whispered, a genuine request without hint of the order Prowl had every right to.

"Of course." Jazz murmured, setting the box of sweets that he had also brought on the small side table, and crawled on to berth as Prowl settled back. He waited for the Praxian to arrange for his comfort, willing to settle or snuggle however would serve the other best. "I'm here to take care of you right now."

"Thank you," Prowl curled against him, trying his best to wrap his frame around the smaller, wingless one. Prowl's pain was an assault across their fields, but so was the comfort he took in having someone warm against him.

It was only a matter of kliks before Prowl's field began to still as he sank into an unstable light recharge.

* * *

Unhappy systems booted entirely too early for Jazz's liking, but he didn't try to stop them. He recognized the alert that had roused him as one he'd set for Prowl moving. His sponsor was getting up.

"Oil? Message?" Jazz asked as he forced himself to wake, mentioning two things that he knew usually relaxed Prowl.

"Worried coworkers," he replied. "They aren't happy I drove home. Rest. I'll be back soon. They just need to see me, talk for a bit."

"You sure? I can get drinks, snacks, if you want." Jazz said, propping himself up on an elbow to better watch as Prowl rose from the berth.

"I'm sure," Prowl said as he forced his frame into something resembling the face he showed to the public. "They won't be here long. I want to recharge more."

"I'll come after you if you aren't back soon." Jazz threatened and saw Prowl's long sensor wings twitch in thanks before he sprawled back on the berth and let his systems quiet some. He wouldn't really fall back into recharge until Prowl was back and he found himself listening rather closely as Prowl went to the main floor and greeted his guests. Jazz was sure he heard three voices including Prowl's.

"You shouldn't have driven yourself," the first one said. That was a mecha Jazz recognized as Radar. While not as common a visitor as Stalker had been, he was one of Prowl's closer friends from Jazz's perspective.

"You don't need to be alone," another, Doubleback, insisted.

"Everyone was busy seven joors ago," Prowl reminded them patiently. "I'm not alone. Jazz is here."

"He doesn't count. He's not one of us. He doesn't understand." Radar insisted.

"He is warm and willing," Prowl said softly. "It's enough for now. I'll be all right," he promised them. "Go home, recover. I'll likely still be in recharge when someone returns."

"You've fueled?" Radar pushed, his voice openly full of concern. "We can call someone to come now instead."

"Yes, I've fueled," Prowl promised. "Jazz is good at his duties. I will welcome your presence when you are no longer exhausted. For now, please settle yourselves and process so you are stable. We both know I won't be hit hard for at least another eleven joors and when that happens I will need strong, stable fields and sparks to rely on."

"Very well. Someone will be back to check on you soon." Promise delivered and satisfied that Prowl should not cease to function imminently, both mecha turned to go.

"Thank you," Prowl's soft voice was full of genuine gratitude. There was a moment of quiet. Doors closed and the sound of Prowl coming back upstairs, and then to Jazz's door.

Jazz was sitting up on the berth as he entered, the box of energon sweets he had brought with him earlier open and on the bed for Prowl to snack before recharging again. "They're satisfied?"

"Yes," Prowl sank onto the berth and picked up a sweet as he settled next to Jazz, open about wanting the contact and warmth. His field was tired and grieving, but smoother than it had been when he got home. "Someone will be by in nine or ten joors to be here when it really hits me."

The delay seemed a curious thing to Jazz, but he didn't ask as he moved closer, field and frame wrapping around Prowl where he sat on the berth to offer the small comfort of a warm frame. "More recharge until then?"

"As much as my systems will allow," Prowl nodded and handed the box to Jazz to put safely on the side table before settling down and reaching to draw Jazz's frame against his own. Prowl tucked his face against Jazz's neck and allowed a full-frame shudder to settle his armor. "You'll teek it when I begin to process the emotional content full time. It's not pretty to watch."

"Rest." Jazz murmured, starting to hum without really thinking about what he was doing and settling himself more fully around his sponsor. He was quickly rewarded by Prowl sinking into recharge once more, and it was a deep, calm-field recharge that would help him process his grief. Only once he was sure that his sponsor was deeply settled did he allow himself to shut down.

Jazz felt himself boot after four joors, but sank back into the warmth of the berth and frame with him when Prowl was still deep in recharge. At nine joors he was barely dozing, only still because of Prowl's embrace, and felt his sponsor begin to boot, and the mech was beginning to _hurt_ like Deadlift did.

No matter what anyone said, Jazz could never again doubt that sparked mecha could love as deeply as kindled ones. He snuggled closer to Prowl, wrapping the Praxian in as much comfort as he could, even though he knew it would do little to ease the pain. Just by the way Prowl's field reached for his and grabbed onto the calm support he knew it was the right choice.

When Prowl finished booting, he hugged Jazz closer as he began to tremble, a soft keen of loss escaping his vocalizer.

"It hurts." Jazz agreed softly. "You love him. That will never go away." He said, continually to speak softly, words of comfort that acknowledged the truth of what Prowl was feeling while serving to remind the Praxian that no matter how it hurt, he was not alone.

Prowl's face nodded against Jazz's neck. He knew. He accepted that truth. He still _hurt_. "Not the first. Won't be the last," he whispered in reply. "Worth it. Worth the pain."

Even Jazz could hear that he was trying to convince himself by speaking that truth. Just as clear was that he did believe it. He just didn't feel it in the moment.

"Of course it is. We aren't meant to function alone." Jazz agreed, gently stroking his sponsor's plating. He could teek that the first bout was calming down and knew he'd have at least a few kliks of numb calm to get energon into Prowl before it came back. Once Prowl seemed at least a little settled Jazz pulled away slowly, his field still touching his sponsor's. "Here, eat a few of these-" He pushed the half full box of energon jellies towards Prowl. "I'm going to go get energon for you. Then you can rest more."

Prowl nodded, everything about him submissive and grateful for directions as he compiled. It was a little strange to Jazz, but as he slipped from the room it made sense in a way. Who didn't want to be cared for and not have to decide what to do when they were hurting? Surely Prowl hadn't been a lieutenant his entire existence. At some point he must have been learning.

Or was that just Jazz's reality forcing itself on a world he knew next to nothing about? They were questions to contemplate once he had Prowl settled, or as settled as the mech was going to be in this state, fueled, and resting once more. Jazz might not know much about being an Enforcer, but he knew a great deal about caring for a mech that was suffering severe emotional pain from the loss of a loved one. Prowl might not be suffering from a broken bond, but he was still faced with the loss of a long-term lover that had been a central part of his functioning.

Armed with energon, enough for two rounds this time, and another box of energon jellies from the stash in the cabinet, Jazz hurried back to the berthroom. According to what he remembered of the conversation he had overheard, another Enforcer should be by soon to check on Prowl. But until that mech arrived it was Jazz's task to see to his sponsor, and his friend.

Just before the door he froze and replayed the last thought.

Friend.

When had Prowl, his sponsor, become a friend?

At the moment he couldn't pinpoint an exact time when the Praxian had crossed the line from someone he knew to someone he considered a friend. Almost family, if not quite yet.

He was still thoughtful as he entered the room. Prowl needed attention, and care. That was what friends and family did- they cared for each other and looked after each other. Prowl had unquestionably lived up to his end of the definition and then some. Quietly Jazz realized that he'd been doing much the same for a while now. The way Prowl looked up and actually lifted his wings in a greeting warmed Jazz and made him hope that he really was more than just a project to Prowl, never to be seen once finished. He couldn't help the small smile as he offered the energon to Prowl. The box and the extra energon were deposited on the side table, and Jazz climbed back on the berth to snuggle by Prowl. "Told you I'd be back."

"Yes," Prowl murmured as he accepted the cube and teeked of relief to have Jazz back. He sipped at the energon without being prompted, a pattern Jazz knew from when he was physical damaged. The mech was very good at obeying his frame's demands for fuel and recharge. "Thank you. For staying, inviting me here."

Jazz had to laugh a little at the irony of Prowl's words. "It's all yours. I'm yours." He pointed out. But then his field reached out with a firm warmth so Prowl would know he spoke the truth. "But I am glad to do this. And glad I can do this for you."

"It is important that you learn the rules for being a mecha, a citizen of Praxus," Prowl leaned into the contact and continued to sip his energon. "The space I give you is your own. I am grateful you wish to take care of me." He paused, shuddering as a fresh burst of pain welled up. "I have not been ignorant of how much further than required you go," he murmured, trying to drink with a sharply constricting intake.

"You give me more than you promised." Jazz said, shifting around on the berth and Prowl's frame to message the Praxian's neck and wings, wanting Prowl to relax enough to get the energon down easily. Grieving required a lot of energy, even though few ever thought about it. He was rewarded by a lick of pleasure and loosening of tension at the touch, and was given a reminder than no matter his origin or function, Prowl was just as tactile as any other mech Jazz had known. Perhaps even more tactile than most.

By the time the energon was finished Prowl was sinking forward, his field leveling out into numbness mingled with soft physical pleasure that was undeniably desired.

"Radar's on his way up," Prowl said reluctantly, decidedly uninclined to move.

"Do I need to go?" Jazz asked, still working over Prowl's frame, slender fingers found their way between armor gaps, messaging the underlying components to continue working out the tension.

"No," Prowl pressed slightly into the touch and groaned softly. "I would have him see your care."

"Showing off?" Jazz asked softly, his tone and field full of friendly teasing.

"Proving a point," Prowl murmured. "That you are capable of caring for another as much as any citizen."

"Are so many mecha without aquis that bad? That we are feared and reviled?" Jazz knew what he had experienced on the streets, but never a reason _why_.

"They are punished for the sins of their creators in breaking the law that allows what prosperity Praxus has. For a couple to have a third creation means that some other couple may only have one. Otherwise there will not be enough energon to go around. Society is stable because we are careful about how many of us there are," Prowl attempted to explain. "Non-mecha are hated so much because you are literally stealing the future from someone else and not even compensating them for it."

Jazz flinched, though the action did not make it down to the hands still working the tension out of the Enforcer's frame. "And yet killing us off somehow makes it all right." Jazz murmured, then forced himself to refocus. "Your sensor wings feel better?"

"Yes," Prowl spread them a bit. "It is the only penalty that has made any kind of impression on potential creators, and it has not made enough of one. What will come next is executing both creators and illegal creations," he sighed. "If people would simply obey the law there would be no need for such extreme responses. I would much prefer that."

"Don't we all," Radar's voice came from the berthroom door. "Finally told him that his spark is being spared at the price of a creation of your own?"

Prowl scowled at his coworker. "No. I had not. Nor was I planning to."

The words had not finished clearing Prowl's vocalizer before Jazz jerked back, field clamped in tightly and frame trembling so badly it was traveling down to his fingertips.

He hadn't known. He should have suspected, with all that Prowl had taught him of Praxian law and practice. The same laws and practices that the Enforcer was charged with protecting and enforcing. But in his selfishness he had never questioned what he was being given.

He didn't know what to say, or how to react.

"Radar, you can be a jerk at times." Prowl grumbled. "He did not need to know that."

"He should. If he doesn't know the price of his actions, he'll just make _more_ illegal creations," Radar shot back. "You know that behavior runs in families. Criminals beget criminals."

Jazz scooted off the bed, trying to keep the anger that flared in him from Prowl. "I'll fetch some more energon." He said, not looking at Radar. He'd fetch the energon treats he knew the other Enforcer favored as well. Insults to his family aside, the mech was Prowl's guest, and cared about Prowl, even if he would apparently rather see Jazz put down and recycled. 

"Even though I have to hand it to you Prowl, this one is well trained." Radar added as he crossed the room to the berth while Jazz slipped from the room.

"Yes, he is very well trained," Prowl agreed, though his tone was snippy. "He also goes beyond what is required because he is a good mecha."

He listened to Prowl grumble at Radar a couple more times on the way to the washrack, the grieving mecha doing nothing to keep his displeasure unknown from either of them. By the time Jazz returned with the energon and treats Radar had Prowl in the hot oil pool.

Jazz knelt by the edge of the pool, his anger under control now, and arranged the energon and the treats so that both mechs preferences were easily within reach. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" He asked, the question mostly addressed to Prowl.

"No, that is all," Prowl said softly, his harmonics fond and thankful.

Radar glanced between them before fixing on Prowl. "Are you fragging him?" Despite the accusation of the words, the tone was confused.

Prowl snarled and slashed out at Radar's wing as his own flared in outrage. Jazz could see Prowl wanting to find words to express what his field did, and simply couldn't so his vocalizer spit static.

Radar bounced back, sloshing oil as he dodged the attack, even more confused than before. "Well, if it's not that, then what is it?"

"I teat him well and he returns it by treating me well. Not everyone is ruled by their interface drive," Prowl snapped, his wings rustling even as he began to settle.

"I'd just gotten those relaxed too." Jazz grumbled softly, shifting around behind Prowl and sliding his fingers into the sensor wing housing. The trembling appendages quickly settled and so did their owner and his field. Within a breem of silence, Prowl was sinking down, his optics dim and lidded, and Radar was still just staring, trying to comprehend the dynamic between the pair. At this range it was impossible for anyone to mistake the platonic nature of the pleasure-affection in both their fields.

"He saved my life. I am well aware, and very grateful, of this fact." Jazz informed Radar softly, easing his fingers out of Prowl's frame as the Praxian settled even farther down into the oil bath.

"Still doesn't explain Prowl," Radar watched and relaxed his field. "He usually wants more when he's hurting like this."

"Not the first recharge," Prowl murmured. "I knew you were coming, and others. No reason to push with someone who doesn't desire me."

"Thank you." Jazz murmured as he rose quietly. "I'll recharge on the couch. Comm if you need anything." This time the offer was clearly extended to Radar as well.

"No need. I will recharge in my own berth," Prowl countered lazily. "Radar knows how to handle me."

"Alright." Jazz agreed with a final warm brush of his field against Prowl before he departed, looking forward to a bit of recharge where he was not keyed to his sponsor. 

* * *

It felt good to be back to something of a normal routine Jazz decided as he worked his way through his chores.

This was Prowl's first orn back on the job, despite the suggestions of his coworkers that he request a few more orns off to finish processing his grief and pain. There had been much over the last three orns for Jazz to listen and observe. Most interesting to him had been how Prowl seemed to handle and process grief once he was no longer directly dependent on Jazz for comfort.

A lot of it he'd needed to turn his audials down for, unprepared for the graphic detail of the standoff and the damages suffered. They didn't discuss just Stalker's fate, but everyone's, and all the events around it. Repeatedly.

He understood the reasoning, since it seemed like with each repetition Prowl worked through more of it, handled it just a little better. It still sounded painful, and with each repetition Jazz had hurt for his sponsor.

There were other interludes too. Some of peaceful recharge. Others of intense interfacing. Then there was the pleasure that was quiet right up to the overload, a process that Jazz eventually worked out was a spark merge. It felt weird to him, to be _that_ close to multiple mecha, but it fit so well in with what Prowl had described of Enforcer culture that it wasn't as strange as it might have been.

Right on time he heard the lift come to a stop. He finished the last of the dusting with a few swipes and made his way to the entry to greet Prowl. His field reached out in welcome and affection to the Praxian as he entered.

"How was your orn?" He asked softly, looking Prowl over critically. Despite being cleaned up for his shift and having been stuck inside all shift, now that he was inside his home, Prowl relaxed his guard and allowed his long sensor wings to droop a bit.

"Dull," Prowl summed up frustration and resignation in a single glyph. "I will be back on full duty in ten orns. It will not be soon enough."

Jazz made a soft sound of sympathy as he accompanied Prowl deeper into the apartment. "Will someone be by tonight?"

"Yes. It is deemed too soon for a pursuit detective to be left alone, even if I have been upgraded past that function," Prowl explained. He slowly stretched his entire frame out, hands over his helm and wing-fingers fully separated with a low groan of relief. "We have refueling together, however."

"You know that I will come in and recharge with you any time you need me." Jazz informed him as he went to the dispenser and fetched the evening energon for them both. Prowl's usual, with a little additive to give it just a hint of the spiciness the Enforcer liked when he was feeling off, and a cube of the usual standard for himself. He put it down on the dinning table, a spot that had an amazing view of central Praxus, and felt Prowl's hand come up to cup his face. The field against his was still a touch unstable but much better than it had been in orns and was warm with thanks and soft affection.

"I know. It means a great deal to me. I know how unpleasant it is to be the one taking the brunt of someone's grief so they can recharge," Prowl said quietly. "I won't forget."

"Do you ever forget anything?" Jazz teased as he squeezed Prowl's hand gently before releasing it and taking a seat. This too was a familiar routine, comfortable and normal, and something else Jazz was glad to have back. He was fairly sure Prowl was too. The mech survived on routine and scheduling his stability around and within the chaos of his duties.

"Only when seriously damaged," Prowl said with a deadpan voice but a slight smile for Jazz. "Most mecha find it a reassuring to have it said. Has anyone given you trouble lately?"

"Not lately. A lot of your co-workers clearly don't care to be around me, but most of them aren't willing to challenge my presence or my worth in your house. And I haven't been anywhere new where your sponsorship of me isn't well known in a decaorn." Jazz replied as he sipped on his energon, still not over the smoothness and quality of what was _normal_ living here with Prowl.

The feeling made him pause sometimes too, sadness at what he had that his siblings he assumed did not. And a small strengthening once more of his resolve to take all that Prowl had to offer, and the find them and give them a chance at a better functioning, just as he had been given a chance. He knew Prowl well enough to be confident that doing so would make the Enforcer proud, and that mattered to Jazz too.

"Good. My co-workers will get over it. They simply do not approve of the way I have chosen to pay for your aliquis. They do not believe you are worthy of becoming my kin." Prowl have a slight wing-shrug as he sipped his energon, then let out a soft sound of contentment at the mix. "I happen to disagree."

Jazz stared down into his energon, still a little embarrassed at the discovery and not sure himself if he was worthy of what Prowl was offering. Not that he was going to argue with the Enforcer on the matter.

"How does that work among sparked mecha?" Ha asked suddenly, curious. "The right to create? If you do not kindle?"

"It varies by function, however the basics are that we have a right to design our creation within the framework of our function to replace us when we near the end of our natural functioning. Those who extinguish early have the option to include their desires in their last wishes to the living or to pass their rights to a creation on to another," Prowl explained. "I have been granted a total of thee aliquis for creations. One for myself and two from those who extinguished young. Stalker," and here his voice hitched slightly. "Stalker has granted me a fourth, though it will be a vorn before all the administrative shuffling is done. I will train his creation when it is sparked and assist it in settling into its place in society."

That admission made Jazz pause as he considered it. Carefully he avoided the mention of Prowl's recently lost lover by focusing on another aspect of Prowl's admission. "How can you claim me as kin, then? I will never be an Enforcer."

"No, you will not be," Prowl acknowledged smoothly. "Like anyone else, we can buy an aliquis by paying the original recipient and the administrative fees for transferring it. The one I inherited from Takedown was one such aliquis. It is good for any kind of mecha I wish to order, including granting it to a kindled mecha."

"So I am not actually taking _yours_ \- the one that you would use to create your own successor." Jazz processed, thoughtful.

Prowl cocked his wings slightly. "No, that one belongs to the Enforcers. My only rights to it are to influence its programming and design. You have the one where I could create free of influence."

"Have you already raised a creation?" Jazz asked, the question coming out with the revelation of so many aquis in Prowl's possession.

"One. The replacement for Fastback," Prowl said between sips. While there was pain and loss there, it was dim and muted compared to the pain of Stalker's loss. "I am not nearly old enough to raise my own replacement yet."

"What do you want for _yours_? What traits? Looks?" Jazz wondered, fiddling with his cube so that the last of the energon in the bottom rippled and reflected glowing, playful patterns on the ceiling.

"More than anything, I want a calm spark that can use the advanced processors it will have and tolerate desk duty better than I," Prowl said softly. "Moderately attractive. It would be intended to make lieutenant and no higher, and is not a PR mecha. Being too attractive would harm its career, as would look out of place among its peers. It is difficult enough to get along when you are a specialist with advanced hardware. It does not need additional hindrances." He paused to sip his energon. "My ambitions for it are much like my ambitions for myself. A good Enforcer; honorable, loyal, dedicated, skilled. I would have a replacement that serves my district and city as I do."

Jazz smiled. Prowl had just summed himself up perfectly. Then he looked up, focusing on the Enforcer. "Why don't you want to climb any higher? From everything I hear you could. Your co-workers seem to think you could do it without effort."

"To advance further would take me out of the field completely and immerse me in politics. While I cannot disagree with their assessments of my ability to do the job, I would be even more miserable than I am now on light desk duty. I was not designed to sit at a desk and push files around. I was designed to _hunt_. I was designed to be a pursuit detective. I only advanced further because they needed my processors in the district more than they needed them to track criminals." Prowl made a murmuring sound, indistinct and meaningless but full of longing and loss. "I enjoyed that function the most, but now that they know how useful I am held close to a district they will never let me hunt like that again."

"Is there anything you can do? To bring even a little of that back sometimes, what you loved so?" Jazz inquired gently.

Prowl canted his wings in confirmation. "I race, on tracks and in free drive parks. I schedule as many patrols as I can manage while still performing my duties. I still train in martial arts and compete when I can arrange the time," he sipped the last of his energon. "That is what I'm doing tonight with Dasher and Switchback. We're going to the central training facility. They're going to let me hunt them. It often helps settle me more than anything else. I can forget everything but my intended function."

"And then one or both of them are coming back to spend the night?" Jazz guessed.

"Yes," Prowl canted his wings in confirmation again. "That is likely to continue until I am cleared for active duty. Then it is up to me to ask if I wish company for the night."

"Comm on your way back? I can have energon and snacks ready." Jazz suggested.

"I will," Prowl promised with a soft smile. "Do you enjoy driving?"

Jazz pondered the questions for a few kliks before he answered honestly. "I really don't know. I haven't had that much experience. Mostly just running errands and the like after you helped me get a fully functioning alt mode the first time I was repaired."

Prowl canted his wings in understanding. "Perhaps it is past time to find out. Once my co-workers stop monopolizing my off-shifts, I'll take you to a couple tracks and free drive parks to see how much Praxian is really in your spark."

"If you would enjoy it, it sounds like _fun_." Jazz agreed, quivering with excitement at the idea.

Prowl actually chuckled. "Then I'll arrange for it later in the decaorn." He paused, one sensor wing flicking, and then Jazz heard the lift coming up. "It seems my distraction has arrived."

"Enjoy your evening. I'll be here when you all come back." There was a bit of teasing in his tone as Jazz rose to see to the little bit of clean-up from the evening meal and leaving Prowl to greet his guests.

"Dasher, Switchback," Prowl greeted them at the door. "Have you refueled?"

"We have. Have you?"

"Yes," Prowl canted his elegant wings and motioned them back to the lift. "I'm ready to _race_."

"Call it what it really is. You are ready to chase." Switchback laughed as the three mechs left the apartment. "Not going to make it easy for you to catch though."

"What Enforcer _isn't_ ready to chase?" Prowl purred with a deep, eager rumble. "I don't want easy. I want to redline everything and keep pushing."

"You seem to be a in good mood..." Dasher offered hesitantly.

It instantly cooled Prowl's mood. "I haven't had a good chase in too long, and ... Jazz seems to be good for me."

The two older Enforcers looks at each other, a little confused as they reached the lobby and walked towards the street.

"I've heard that you have managed to train this one to behave. And that you seem...fond of him." Switchback commented as they transformed, finishing his thought over a comm line. ::Though he seems like a very expensive distraction.::

The answer was an attempt at diplomacy, though clearly lacking approval.

::He wasn't a distraction when I took on the project,:: Prowl reminded them. ::As for expensive, it's not impacting my quality of life.::

::Yes. But with your talent and resources, there is so much _more_ that you could be doing. You have the resources to create the perfect mecha, instead of trying to shape someone else's cast-offs into something worthwhile.:: Dasher mused.

::Yet the cast-offs are already living sparks,:: Prowl countered. ::Is it not better for society to reform the living than to create new?::

"An endless debate that has been going on as long as I have been on the force." Switchback commented as they arrived at the training facility. "Some say yes. Others say no. If the rehab fails, it's wasted resources. If it succeeds, well, some think that is better than putting sparks down mercifully."

"True, yet in the end, they are my resources to waste," Prowl shrugged his wings and stretched. "I haven't chosen poorly yet. Not one of my projects has reoffended after their time with me. So am I chasing you, or hunting you?"

"Short chase for a warm-up, then you can hunt us to your sparks content?" Dasher suggested, sensor wings flaring in a mild stretch.

"Agreed," Prowl quivered with anticipation. He'd been off the tracks for entirely too long and he knew it was showing. "Sixteen nanoklik head start?"

"Like we need that much." Dasher said, transforming and taking off.

"Show-off." Switchback called as he copied the other Enforcer, both mechs sprinting away from Prowl as the walking tactical center that dominated Prowl's processors went to work calculating the best way to stop them without using ranged weapons.

* * *

Jazz roused when he felt Prowl begin to boot. He was already used to the older mecha taking several times longer than he did and at the moment, which was with Prowl still grieving the deactivation of his lover, it was a major advantage. It meant Jazz could be fully aware and processing all the signals given long before he had to interact with the mecha.

Ten orns after going on light duty, Prowl was released to full duty. That night he recharged by himself and seemed to have been grateful for the relative solitude. The next night he'd hesitated, then asked if Jazz would recharge with him, and was very careful with the glyphs. He truly meant to rest, and only to rest.

So when a half-aware Prowl's hand began to slide down, caressing Jazz's hip, it was easy to ignore. Even when he began to do more than caress, it wasn't that difficult.

Then the hand slid over his spike cover and began to stroke it. Startled, Jazz spread his field further, taking in everything he could from Prowl. The Praxian was still far from coherent, and most likely had no idea who was in the berth with him, only that a warm frame was pressed close to his.

For half a klik Jazz managed to ignore the touch, working through his own thoughts rapidly. He really didn't desire his sponsor, not like this. But he cared for Prowl, and if giving the Praxian this would make Prowl better, he would.

Just so long as the Praxian knew what he was doing when he asked, and that he was likely to be disappointed.

"Prowl." Jazz called, pushing his field forcefully into the still waking mech. He felt it the moment recognition of his request to boot faster was recognized and Prowl's frame stilled, turning all attention to the long and complex process of booting such advanced processors and a finely tuned frame.

It was four long, still kliks before Prowl had booted enough to speak and fully understand where he was, and the first reaction was something of a hum. Part question, part statement that he was aware enough to be spoken to.

Jazz reached up, running a hand lightly down Prowl's arm and emphasizing just where Prowl's hand was resting. "Do you want this? Me?" The second question was curious but cautious, testing.

There was a surprisingly long pause before Prowl moved his hand, drawing it up to embrace Jazz across the chest and pull him closer. "I want it, the sensation of a field lost in pleasure it very soothing. From you, only if you desire it."

The thing was, Jazz wasn't sure of he wanted it or not. "I am curious to try." He finally decided, leaning back into Prowl some and letting his field settle out.

There was curiosity and affection there. Hesitancy, though it wasn't directed specifically at Prowl.

"Curious," Prowl repeated, rolling the statement over in his processors a few times. "I encourage your curiosity, with your knowledge that no harm comes from telling me no, or to stop. Especially in this. Allowing me to touch you like this is not one of your duties." He reiterated even as his hand slid down Jazz's chest.

"Try." Jazz repeated finally, decision made with his trust in Prowl. "But you are going to have to tell me what you want me to do." He added.

"Just lay there and enjoy," Prowl purred softly, his entire frame vibrating with anticipation as his fingers reached Jazz's spike panel once more and caressed it. Sharp claws were light and smooth across the surface, just teasing around the edges. "My hand will pleasure your spike."

Another half a klik of hesitation from Jazz followed the order. Then he did exactly as he was told, frame melting into the berth and back against Prowl as the cover to his spike slid back, exposing the protected hardware. Large, strong fingers with claws capable of gutting a mecha touched him gently, stroking and teasing. It wasn't demanding. It was exploring, wanting to know what felt good to _this_ lover.

The light touches on the housing left Jazz squirming, the tickling sensation they produced in his components irritating. But the first time the claw tips dipped down inside the rim, caressing the edge and the tip of his spike, the moan of pleasure was instant and loud.

Prowl repeated that touch, focused on it for the reaction it gave. His claws slid around once more, circling the tip before stroking it with the back of one claw. The repeated motion sent a smooth wave of pleasure through Jazz into Prowl. The second set into motion another wave of events, the soft click of a spike release and the near silent hiss of a spike pressurizing taking over.

Prowl continued the gentle circles and careful strokes to encourage the shaft to extend far enough for his fingers to circle the tip and slid upward in a promise of the pleasure to come when the rest came out. Then they slid up around the exposed spike, open his fingers to move down to the housing, close them lightly and repeat the upwards slide. The attention drew the desired response from his current berthmate, the spike following the leading of his hand as Jazz purred softly, pleasure and surrender rich for Prowl to feel.

With the soft click of the locking mechanism to hold the fully extended and pressurized spike in place, Prowl shifted his strokes. The flat of his palm rubbed up the underside while his fingers rubbed down along the top and his thumb circled and pressed lightly into the head.

Completely at ease in the pleasure Jazz moved with the touches just a bit, his optics going dim behind his visor as his frame continued to hum with the increasing pleasure. He'd never had a problem with mecha touching his spike, and his few lovers had been good. But there was something different in this touch and encounter that he couldn't put into words. A pleasure that was a little more than physical and was so easy to sink into and enjoy. The stroking was smooth and slow, a gradual building of pleasure rather than trying to get off as quickly as possible. 

The fact that Jazz was clearly enjoying the touch after his initially hesitation with the proposition was only making the slow build-up all the more sweet. The soft purring of the slender mechling's engines was building slowly with the pleasure in the mechling's field with each stroke of Prowl's hand over the ripple-patterned spike.

It wasn't long before moans became shuddering gasps and Jazz's hips thrust awkwardly into each stroke of the hand. Prowl let him, unconcerned and easily adapting to the shifting rhythm and demand crackling in the frame next to his. He only closed his hand a bit more and shifted his stoke to a simpler up and down motion more indicative of normal interfacing with his fingers and palm moving together.

The jumps in charge were more erratic, faster and stronger, and it was only a few more kliks before Jazz's was lost in the energy rush of an overload. His field expanded outward, ramming into Prowl more than washing over the Praxian with uncontrolled pleasure. Prowl continued to stroke the squirting spike, sending further shockwaves into Jazz until Prowl gradually slowed and Jazz came down, his vents hiccupping lightly in his dazed reset.

It took a moment, but Jazz finally registered that Prowl not only hadn't overloaded, but wasn't even warm with arousal.

"Did you mean, not too?" Jazz find managed, his speech still slurred from the unusual energy flickering through his system.

"Yes," Prowl murmured, relaxed and content with what had happened. "Feeling the pleasure in another is very therapeutic when I am not distracted by my own interface systems. When you came here, I keyed my duty protocols to include you at all times. I'm incapable of feeling arousal in response to you until I change that."

Jazz hummed as he processed that, first thoughtful, then decisive. "Liked that, a lot. If it helps you, ask any time."

"Thank you," Prowl purred, grateful and pleased as Jazz's frame continued to relax. "Have you had a lover?"

"A few after my mechling upgrades had settled in. Friends of my brothers mostly, who had known me since I was little and could be trusted." Jazz admitted, frame melting back into Prowl's in an almost forgotten contentment of the warm afterglow of pleasure.

"Good. Then you will have some sense of what a good lover is when you are a citizen and begin to seek one out," Prowl murmured, content to remain where he was, enjoying the sensations flowing from Jazz as the mecha's spike depressurized and retracted.

"Crosswire was nice. First, and most frequent." Jazz mused, willing to recall more since Prowl seemed to approve. "A maintenance mechanic from one of the cargo hubs. Quiet."

"Even in the berth?" Prowl asked, curious because it was his nature. "Or did he have more energy there?"

Jazz chuckled. "Good energy. Positive energy. He was very gentle, and very good teacher for the little time that we were able to share. He was very busy too."

"Most good mecha are," Prowl agreed, then reluctantly disentangled himself from Jazz to get up. "You may recharge there longer if you wish. Just have my berth clean and made before I get home."

"It will be clean." Jazz promised, stretching his frame full length as he checked the time and realized it was time for Prowl to clean up and leave. "And everything else too. Company tonight?"

"Unlikely. I thought we might go racing tonight," Prowl told him.

The suggested had Jazz suddenly energized, and he rolled from the berth and jumped to his feet. "Sounds like fun!"

If they did go out Jazz had a lot he needed to get done in a much shorter amount of time than usual. Which translated to getting started now.

Or more accurately, right after he cleaned up.

* * *

It was later in the evening than they normally had their energon, but for a change it was not because Prowl had been forced to work late. In fact, the Enforcer has not worked at all that orn, so most of it had been devoted to attending, and therefore unofficially patrolling, a street fair in his district. A once a vorn affair, the large festival sported vendors, games, craft displays and general entertainment. Jazz had enjoyed himself thoroughly, the experience taking him back to similar events in the district that he had grown up when he was younger.

As he drew their energon Jazz hummed one of the songs that been performed by a band that day. He had been thankful that Prowl had been willing to linger and listen as well. Even after the vorns in his home, Jazz could not always predict when Prowl's sense of duty would call him to keep moving and when lingering was agreeable. Fortunately the Enforcer wasn't bothered when Jazz asked, regardless of what the answer was.

He put the energon on the table and settled down, allowing Prowl an extra moment to settle. This was not the kind of patrolling that Prowl was fond of so it often took him an extra moment to switch gears into 'home and safe' mode. Jazz continued to hum, one pede twitching slightly in time with the music he was making as he waited for Prowl to finish settling down.

"What was your favorite thing today?" Prowl asked after sipping his energon.

Jazz paused, then laughed at his own twitching pede. "I think it was all the different music and performers. Thank you for circling around to them several times."

"You are welcome. It is good to see how many mecha enjoy the culture on offer and not just the things for sale," Prowl smiled softly. "Live music is often very enjoyable."

"Some of those young acting groups were entertaining too." Jazz mused, recalling a comedy that they had caught a little of. It had been a good reminder for Jazz of why Praxus was famous for the arts.

"Yes. Some were even performing original creations, rather than established plays," Prowl agreed. "There are designations I will support when they are ready to move onto more serious venues."

"Was there anything about today that you enjoyed?" Jazz asked. Even if Prowl did not admit it, he was still working unofficially when he was out in public like that. Enforcers were never completely off duty, not even when on leave. It was part of wearing the markings they so proudly bore and Jazz knew well just how dedicated his sponsor was.

"It was quiet enough I didn't have to call any on-duty officers," Prowl answered easily. "No one needed a medic because of fighting. It was a good orn."

"But the art? The music? The vendors?" Jazz prompted, wondering if Prowl did more than notice what was around him. Even his comments about the performers had been of supporting their advancement.

"It is all enjoyable," Prowl said. "My favorite part of any orn I have off duty is when I am not called on to do my duty. Everything is not a useful response to what one enjoyed."

The answer left Jazz shaking his helm at his sponsor. There were many times when he still did not understand Prowl. "If you say so. Are you working it officially tomorrow?"

"Not on the street unless serious trouble happens. The report and minor infractions backlog these events create take orns to sort out, even for me," he let out a small sigh, then a tiny, teasing smile. "It's only for racing events that I'll pull rank and assign myself to a duty shift. It annoys the captain, but he can't get me in trouble for it given my record."

"Chained to a desk." Jazz sympathized as he finished off his energon. "It's got to be some relief that this is only once a vorn."

"This one is," Prowl chuckled ruefully. "There are events every metacycle, often two or three of them. It's simply part of the schedule," he said as he stood and stretched, his long sensor wings flaring and spreading out with a leisurely clicking of joints. "Some are more fun than others, but any orn that doesn't involve arresting someone is a good orn."

Jazz knew now what Prowl couldn't say, didn't dare say. That Prowl said that so often as a mantra to convince his spark and deeply buried code that it was true. A mecha created to hunt could never be completely happy if he didn't hunt.

"It is. For the other mech." Jazz agreed gently as he wiped down the table quickly and started shutting things down for the night. "Planning on an oil soak before recharge?"

"No, tonight it will be directly to recharge. I believe I am ready to do so alone now. You have not used your own berth in too long," Prowl said, his harmonics a mixture of thanks and regret. "I am grateful you have humored me for so long."

"You're sure? I don't mind." Jazz argued, looking up to study Prowl. Secretly, he'd come to enjoy the extra time in the Enforcers presence. The calm that was a settled Prowl, the feeling good from making someone else feel good, was more than a little addictive.

"I am sure. I need to adapt to recharging on my own again," Prowl said firmly as he turned to the lift.

"Right." Jazz agreed, softly and confused as to the vague feeling of rejection. "Recharge well."

"Recharge well," Prowl replied.

* * *

There had been a subtle buzz in the air since Prowl had arrived home for the orn. Jazz had been almost vibrating, but had not done or said anything out of the ordinary until it was time for the evening energon.

This night when Jazz set Prowl's energon on the table, he placed a datapad on the table next to it. The Enforcer flicked it on and began scanning as he sipped his energon, reading the test results and the writeup Jazz's tutor had given Jazz.

"Excellent results," Prowl offered genuine praise for a job well done.

Jazz glowed at the praise, pleasure spilling unchecked into his field to wash over Prowl. "Thank you. We set the next courses today as well, so long as you approve." He said. "After these he suggested starting to tailor them to what I wish to do when I continue my studies beyond my Second Diploma."

"I sent the approval in on my drive home," Prowl responded with an easy smile for his charge. "Have you decided what you wish to do beyond a Second Diploma?"

Jazz fiddled with his cube, a debate he had been having with himself rising once more. "A Third would give me the learning to open and run a business, the theory at least. But that is risky. A Fourth would provide a more secure income, but..." He vented softly. "I am not sure what sort of things I would be good for, with that much of an education." He didn't even mention the cost of each additional Diploma, or how deeply it would in-debt him to Prowl. He knew Prowl well enough by now to know that Prowl would never had included the terms in the contract they both held if he was not willing to see them through.

It was one of the many truths about the Enforcer that endeared him to Jazz. Quietly Jazz admitted to himself that he admired the Praxian. Honored him as much as he did both of his creators. Prowl seemed to like him in return. Maybe even love him on some level, though clearly not in the manner of a lover or mate. By his own choice he was incapable of it and Prowl had freely admitted it. It was a fact that Jazz had accepted and integrated into his own feelings.

"How much income do you anticipate needing?" Prowl asked.

"Enough to support myself, and possibly up to two other mechs." Jazz stated, not even having to stop and think about it. The first thing that he was going to do after he was legally a real person and at least initially settled in his new life was to track down his brothers.

"At what level?" Prowl shifted the question slightly. "It is possible to support three mecha on a Second Diploma. I've seen it done, though they live at a level comparable to what you did with only Deadlift. It seems unlikely your brothers would bring in no income at all."

This Jazz did stop to consider. "They would help, for sure. I would want us to be comfortable- with a secure, safe place to live, and to not have to worry about whether there will be enough for energon for the next orn. And enough for them to have at least a little of the chance that you have given me, to increase their learning, and their chances, if they want."

He shifted, his field taking on a shy note as he waved his hand around, encompassing Prowl's duel level apartment. "Nothing like what you have here. Even after all this time, it still seems a little grand to someone from the shipping and dock district." The underlying tone held appreciation for what Prowl had and shared, but also the personal belief that it was more than someone like Jazz needed or deserved.

"Is that your only concern, the stability and income?" Prowl moved onto the next question his logic tree presented.

"Most of it. Though I would like to do something I enjoy, that I find purpose in, as well." Jazz admitted. "I've seen too many suffer from being forced to do otherwise."

Prowl inclined his wings in understanding. "That is not something I can help with. I can provide income requirements for various levels of comfort and security, what will be required for upward mobility, but not coming on line knowing what it is you are to do and desiring to do it is beyond me."

Jazz laughed. "I'm social, at least as much as I can be. And I've found I like entertaining mecha. I like it when you have company over and things run smoothly. It's fun- reading them and guessing what they are going to want before they ask. That is why I was thinking about trying for some social business deal."

"When you have a social business it doesn't always go smoothly," Prowl warned gently. "Mecha get overcharged, connectors snap, programming corrupts, domestic issues walk in. Many calls to patrol mecha are about such events. You have the intelligence and social coding to manage, but be careful about only seeing the good in a function you don't know well."

"I know there will be trouble. It comes with any function." Jazz answered, his field calm and accepting in a way that showed he did at least have some idea. "But it is something that I can learn to deal with, and I think I would want to learn to handle."

"I believe you could," Prowl canted his wings slightly in complement. "I also believe it is time you spoke to, and listened to, one of my rehab contacts. Her designation is Keycode and her function is to match mecha with a function they are likely to do well in, then to lay out a path to entering that function. She understands things about the kindled world that are well beyond me."

"That would be really helpful." Jazz agreed, the excitement of a future that was starting to shape from ideal to reality sending a ripple of pleasure through him.

"Good," Prowl relaxed, openly pleased that Jazz saw the value in what was being offered. "Have you put any thought to the design or upgrades you wish for your adult frame? The final design will need to be submitted within two vorns."

"Fast." Jazz sighed, hopeful and longing at the same time. He had found a love of speed and racing when Prowl had taken him to the track the first time, and it had pulled at his spark ever since.

A low, curious hum greeted the statement. "There are several definitions of fast. Street-legal, pro-racing or specialized racer being the three basic levels."

"Something more street legal." Jazz said. "The others stand out too much. Fast, flexible- to be able to move, more than just race." He caught himself as he realized he was rambling, field rippling in embarrassment at his own enthusiasm with the topic at hand.

"To dance?" Prowl suggested as much as guessed.

"That's part of it. Moving, racing, dancing- it all feels good. Visual and audio upgrades would be good too- one step ahead of what is going on around me." Jazz decided.

"Anything else?" Prowl asked with a small hum of agreement.

Jazz's gaze drifted to Prowl's sensor wings. "A set of those again, one orn." He said quietly.

"It is bared by law until you have an aliquis. It will be the last upgrade you have under my charge," Prowl told him firmly. "Will you keep your current colors?"

"Change them a little, but yes. More blue, and darker. White and red too. Dark and fast." Jazz smiled, relaxing as the energon was finished and enjoying the closing of a good orn.

"Easily done," Prowl flicked his sensor wings. "What appeals about being dark?"

"That it is different than any look I've had before. New look...for sort of a new me." A new him, thanks to the mech seated across from him.

"What about a chevron?" Prowl nudged around the edges about just how Praxian the half-breed wanted to look.

"I thought about it." Jazz admitted, "but I think not. Neither of my brothers have one; we all got our carrier's sensory horns. It just doesn't feel right."

Prowl hummed his understanding. "It is very important to feel right in your own frame. I will also remind you that you have the option of upgrading the quality to exceptional grade components and crafting at the price of additional time in service."

"I know. I was planning to take you up that. It seems foolish not to." Jazz said as he rose to wipe down the table.

A flick of agreement from Prowl's sensor wings as the mech rose. "We will begin to meet with the designers in a decaorn then. Such upgrades take significant planning."

"I look forward to it." Jazz concluded, his field humming with anticipation even as he worked.


	4. New Terms of Service

Jazz felt the ache across his entire frame and awareness as he booted up to more notices than he could ever recall. Not even after Prowl had had him repaired shortly after taking him in. It felt like there wasn't a single component that hadn't been adjusted or replaced. He had been warned of all of this. First by the design specialists that Prowl had employed, and then again by the medical staff performing the procedure, once it was made clear to them that they were expected to communicate with him and treat him well.

He worked through all of the notices, looking at each one individually as it was logged and integrated. There was little on his frame that had not been upgraded or replaced, and quite a lot that had been added.

A top of the line engine. Modifications to his structural integrity to support the stress of the new systems. The upgrades to his audial sensors, and the ones to his vision as well.

With a silent sigh he felt the base components for the sensor wing panels he still lacked integrate, ready and waiting for him to earn his citizenship, and the right to wear them. Of all the changes, that physical proof of the promise was worth the most. Jazz had a good idea just what they cost. Not in credits, since he wasn't charged in credits, but in vorns of service they'd cost him.

So far he was up to thirty-four hundred vorns and while that included the eventual sensor wings since they'd already been planned for, it didn't include the Third or Fourth Diploma he was still considering. To get both would add on another seventy-four hundred vorns, but the payoff would be incredible. Prowl had done more than hint that he didn't expect all that in time. With that level of education and the aliquis, he could begin to work outside of Prowl's service and use that income to pay off the debt faster.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to remain in Prowl's service for a while longer. It would give him a place that was safe, stable, and familiar while he got settled in the real world. And into functioning as a mech in his own right.

A soft vent escaped him as the last of the notices passed, and he booted his new optics for the first time. They focused far quicker than he was used too, a first indicator of the quality, and allowed him to look about the sterile recovery room. His gaze was immediately drawn to the only object of interest, his sponsor.

"Any red notices?" Prowl asked calmly, his gaze openly sweeping the new frame.

"No red flags. Just the soreness they warned me about, and tired from processing all of the changes." Jazz informed him, testing the integration by slowly lifting one arm. The movement was smoother than anything he could recall. It was quieter and easier too, even if it reminded him of just how many coding changes had been made as part of the upgrade. It was all signs of the quality of craftmechship involved in the physical work.

"Good. It looks like it is the quality of work and materials that I ordered," Prowl hummed with pleasure. "You do have an excellent optic for design. Attractive without being too flashy for your own good."

"So you like it?" Jazz asked, rising to a sitting position and looking around for something that he could see himself in. He wanted to see for himself if he truly looked like the design that just been a three dimensional image.

"Yes, I do." Prowl confirmed and stepped forward to help Jazz up with an offered hand. "There is a mirror room in the washrack."

For a few steps Jazz leaned on his sponsor, finding his balance. Then he moved on his own, wonder clear at the smoothness and silence of his own frame. Even after the extensive repairs he hadn't been like this. Despite the newness even his balance was better. Much better.

He knew he was going to hurt until it was all fully broken in, but he also had the distinct feeling that was not going to take nearly as long as it had in the past. They'd told him it could take as much as a metacycle or as little as half a decaorn, depending on how easily his core processors and protoform adapted to the changes.

"Amazing." He murmured as he took it all in, turning slowly in front of the mirrors Prowl had guided him to.

A slender mech looked back at him, racing trim and sleek. Dark navy colored his frame, contrasting with white and accented with brilliant red highlights. His optics were a bright blue, shining intensely. No one would look at him and think he was not a citizen. Maybe not a citizen of Praxus, not yet, not without his sensor wings, but he looked like a citizen with credits to spend.

"I'm pleased you approve of your design in practice as well as theory," Prowl hummed. "There will be neural blockers for the discomfort, however they must be prescribed to me for you. You will need to keep me apprised of your use so they do not run out."

"Hopefully I won't need them very long. Though I might not mind another one to get home on." Jazz agreed as he turned back to face Prowl, grimacing as new sensors adjusted in his shoulder, the momentary shift reading as pain.

"That is within the acceptable parameters," Prowl agreed to it. "The medic will examine you once more and then we will take a transport home. You should not transform until the changes settle."

* * *

It the was the middle of his second full orn without pain blocks, and Jazz had never felt so good that he could recall. Every now and then something small would still shift and finish settling into place, but overall it seemed as though all of his upgrades and alterations had integrated and settled smoothly. It was going so well in fact, that on his last check-up the medic had declared him cleared, barring any unforeseen complications. Which meant that Jazz could finally return to his full range of normal duties, something that was going to feel good to the active mech.

Prowl had been very forgiving while Jazz was recovering from the rebuild as well, a fact which only served to endear his sponsor even more to Jazz. The Praxian had settled for only mildly chastising him when he found Jazz in recharge in the hot oil during a time when the pool was normally reserved for Prowl's personal use. Jazz had no doubt that he'd berated himself over it more than Prowl ever would, but that helped keep the rules in Jazz's processor. He never wanted to upset his sponsor that much.

Right now dinner was on the table, ready for the Enforcer to return home. Jazz hoped Prowl had as good an orn as Jazz had. It felt incredible to get outside and drive around for errands. His new alt was hard to keep throttled back to the speed limits, but he'd managed. The last thing he wanted was to get pulled over by one of Prowl's subordinates. The ticket would be nothing compared to facing Prowl with it.

Fortunately nothing of the sort had happened. It was enlightening too, just how few pings he got for his ID. It wasn't because anyone knew him, not looking like this, but because he looked like he belonged well enough to be passed over. When he was pinged he got funny looks, but no one challenged him any more. Most of them seemed more surprised than anything else, and it made Jazz smirk a little inside.

The automatic ping of the lift door opening caught his attention, announcing Prowl's arrival home, and Jazz didn't even try to hide the bounce in his step as he rose to greet the mech. "Welcome home. Good orn?"

"Reasonably so," Prowl offered a small smile as his gaze swept over Jazz. "I gather that yours did as well."

"No pain blocks, and no need for them." Jazz reported cheerfully. "And ran errands today too. It felt _good_ to get out for a bit. Arranged to have some of the stuff delivered instead of picking up like I usually do. A couple things got really low while I was recovering."

"Excellent," Prowl's pleasure showed in his field and voice. "I have an offer to discuss with you over energon, if you feel ready to process such serious questions."

"Of course." Jazz replied, settling some at the mention of the word _serious_. No matter how much trust Prowl had built up in him, Jazz could never completely forget that he had no rights that Prowl did not grant.

Prowl motioned them to the table and settled over a sip of energon before focusing on Jazz. "Did I teek correctly that you were disappointed when we stopped sharing a berth?"

"A little." Jazz admitted as he settled across from Prowl. "I enjoyed the company, and sharing. It was nice, even just having another warm frame nearby."

"I have also come to miss your company. I have begun to miss having a lover as well, yet not to the point where I feel ready to take on another high-maintenance one from work." He paused to regard Jazz evenly. "As before, it seems that you are an excellent middle ground. You are much less needy than another Enforcer, we know each other and we are compatible enough for a few centuries. Amending the contract to include interfacing activities seemed the most logical step to me."

"Amending the contract how?" Jazz asked, helm tilting to the side as he studied his sponsor, field open and curious.

"Since you will be providing additional services, I would reduce the time you owe depending on what you are willing to do," Prowl said carefully. "Both limits and duties, and the time modifications would be clearly listed. Depending on how much you feel comfortable with it could take as many as twenty seven hundred vorns off your release date."

Jazz hummed softly as he thought about it, his field shifting uneasily as he considered. "May I have an orn or two to think it over, before I decide? I am not sure, just yet."

"Of course," Prowl agreed readily. "You may have all the time you wish to process this."

"Thank you." Jazz said, relaxing a little.

* * *

Jazz lay stretched out on the berth that had been his since he had come to live with Prowl. Bright optics stared up at the ceiling, as though the blank surface would offer him answers to his current dilemma. 

The terms that Prowl was offering were generous. Very generous. The subtraction of 400 vorns for the use of Jazz's valve. Another 200 for his spike, 100 for his mouth. The enforcer placed a much higher value on spark play, offering 800 for that, and 1200 for Jazz to indulge his kinks, none of which were violent or damaging. And all of those would stack on top of each other, making Jazz a free mech in almost no time if he accepted. Included were also the terms, very reasonable terms, for how it would work should either of them wish to stop interfacing as part of their relationship. Prowl was thorough, utterly and completely.

And yet, Jazz couldn't find it in his spark to do it. Not because he didn't want to interface or share pleasure with Prowl. The mech was attractive and kind, and Jazz knew he was a good and considerate lover. But to sell something that he would willing give seemed wrong to Jazz, and bothered him deeply.

With a soft vent he let his optics go dim. Tomorrow he would speak with Prowl, and present the Praxian with a compromise he hoped would be accepted. It would make the orn a long, nervous one, but by the time Prowl came home Jazz had gone over his counter-proposal so many times that he was sure he was ready to face his sponsor.

Still, he had everything ready just as Prowl liked it. Energon on the table, warmed and spiced to Prowl's preference this evening. Jazz's own simple evening fuel waiting across from. And he was ready and waiting as the lift opened to admit Prowl to the apartment.

"Welcome home. Good orn?" Jazz asked, the words practically ritual now as he stood for Prowl's usual inspection. As unpleasant as the connotations to that inspection could have been, would have been with anyone else, Jazz had come to understand that it was a display of caring rather than control for Prowl. To inspect meant that Prowl cared enough to assure himself that all was well. It wasn't a lack of trust in Jazz, but a mark of how much Prowl desired Jazz to be well.

"Yes, it was productive and reasonably quiet." Prowl responded with a hum of approval for his charge. "You have made a decision."

"I have looked over the changes." Jazz said as they made their way to the table and took their seats. "And I have a proposal, if you are willing to listen."

"Of course," Prowl agreed after he sat down and relaxed into the chair designed to support his frame.

"But first- why me? Is it all a matter of convenience for you? That I am already here the only reason?" Jazz started, playing with his energon instead of drinking it as he looked at Prowl.

"It is undeniably a factor, yes. You live here. There are no questions of whether you are free that night, who's home we will stay at or any of the other complications of my typical relationship. You also do not come with function-related stress that a good lover should tend to. It is decidedly selfish on my part, however I am honest with myself that while I wish a lover and the good it brings, I am not prepared to give as much as I receive. I am not ready yet. For the next few centuries I want a far more quiet, submissive lover than a co-worker would be," Prowl explained. "However, you are pleasant to be with. I like you." He fiddled with his cube a bit. "This is not an offer I have made before. I have not found my previous charges appealing as intimate company."

Several kliks of silence passed as Jazz processed that. The admission eased some of his doubts, and roused his curiosity about what else Prowl found attractive in his lovers. But those were questions for another time.

"I cannot accept the terms you have proposed." He stated quietly, waiting to see how Prowl would react before he continued. Disappointment rose first, sharp and painful to teek, then acceptance as many other emotions were pushed to the background.

"As you wish," Prowl inclined his elegant sensor wings.

"To take payment for something that I would give willingly...I can't." Jazz continued, hurt by Prowl's pain and hoping even more now that his offer would be accepted. "I would be a lover, your lover, because I want to." He stated.

Prowl's acceptance flickered with confusion and understanding as he processed the statement and put it in context. "I understand your concern," he replied after a moment. "However, to not compensate you in some way while I legally own you is very close to the abuse of power that I must guard against so carefully every time I walk outside this apartment. I understand that you would give willingly. Can you understand that compensation for your work, even work you willingly do, is the basis of the contract?"

"Then don't make it _work_." Jazz countered, almost pleading. "I'm not a buymech. Teaching, pleasure, in this, only this, maybe treat me as something I am not yet. An equal?"

He watched as Prowl processed the idea, struggled with it, and eventually canted his wings slowly in agreement. "I am not sure how intimate relationships are handled among kindled mecha, but among Enforcers we still write and sign a contract detailing the terms and what each side expects of the other."

"Contracts...between lovers?" Now it was Jazz's turn to struggle with an idea. Finally he forced himself to accept the difference, and nodded. "A separate contract then, with terms we can both agree to?"

"Yes, between lovers," Prowl confirmed. "It ensures that surprises are limited and both sides enter the arrangement with a solid understanding of expectations. It is especially critical when dealing with mecha outside our caste that may not understand what comes with being an Enforcer. Yes, a separate contract we both agree to would be acceptable." He pulled a datapad from subspace, one of a dozen he habitually kept there for reports and data collection and pinged his default contract for an intimate relationship to it. "This differs from what you already read primarily in the lack of value associated with various acts. It also assumes that the other party will have their terms added to it and includes what I will not do."

Much more hopeful and at ease now, Jazz reached out for the datapad, his field brushing with timid warmth against Prowl's. Prowl's brushed back with anticipation and no small amount of nervousness.

Jazz settled back in his seat, reading over the proposal carefully as he sipped on his energon. There was really nothing there that had did not expect. The firm fact that data came above pleasure and any personal demands or expectations of the relationship was simply the nature of an Enforcer that he was well familiar with. Prowl's personal preferences mirrored what had been spelled out in the alterations to the original contract, only lacking the prices tags, and Prowl had said.

Finally Jazz set the pad back on the table and addressed Prowl. "I really have little to add." He said quietly. "My time has no constraints except those which you place on it. I have not been in a relationship long enough to know what my preferences for interfacing are, other than I have no interest or pleasure in pain. I would like to learn about being a lover, and having one, if you are still willing."

"Good. Pain is not source of pleasure for myself either, giving or receiving," Prowl relaxed a bit. "I understand it as well as anyone who does not enjoy it can, though it seems that is not a bridge we will need to cross. I will teach you what I can. Do understand that what social norms I know are not going to be of the society you will return to. I only have a limited understanding of how they court. Do any of my kinks concern you?"

"Not on the surface, but I've never tried any of them either. And if we can both say no, not too worried about trying them." Jazz smiled, accepting, and with the first hints of eagerness flicking in his field.

"We can both say no," Prowl swore in a way that Jazz had no doubt carried as much weight as an oath to Primus. "Is there any form of interfacing you have not done at least once?"

"Never done spark." Jazz admitted, one hand rising to cover his chest unconsciously. "Think I've tried everything else at least once."

"I will not demand what you are not ready to give." Prowl smiled and caresses Jazz's field with reassurance. "Sparkplay is very intimate. It is not a method everyone does or enjoys. Though it does not require merging sparks." He paused for a sip of his nearly empty cube. "Though sparkplay without merging is more like tactile. Rather like the difference between sinking into a valve and the handjob I gave you."

"Maybe some orn." Jazz agreed, sliding the little amended agreement back to Prowl for the Enforcer to look over. He watched Prowl read it, then sign it and hand it back.

"You have a great deal of time to decide if you wish me to be your first," Prowl said easily as Jazz signed the contract. They both knew it was no more legally binding in court than the original one, but in this as in so many things, it displayed Prowl's intentions.

"True." Jazz agreed warmly as he wiped down the table. "So what are your plans for the rest of the evening?"

Prowl's pale optics glittered as his engine gave a hungry rev as he stood. "Since you have agreed to share my berth, I hope to indulge a bit tonight." Whisper-quiet steps came around Jazz and a field that all but crackled with desire came with a caressing hand that slid across Jazz's cheek and down his neck. "I know what you sound and feel like in pleasure, but you haven't heard me yet."

"Oh, I've heard you." Jazz countered with a laugh as he leaned into the caress. "I've just never been the cause of it."

"Believe me, it is a very different experience to _feel_ being the cause," Prowl rumbled, then tipped Jazz's face up for a slow, chaste kiss that gradually grew heated. Jazz moaned into the kiss, the high performance engine in him purring and rumbling as processor recalled long ago pleasure and the almost forgotten desire for it that was now reawakening.

Strong white hands gradually drew Jazz closer as their frames continued to heat until Prowl finally broke the kiss when Jazz began to tremble. With casual grace, Prowl backed up, guiding them through the apartment as he kissed, licked and teased the cabling of Jazz's throat. There was no resistance in the slender frame under his hands. Curious touches met his attention, hands that knew Praxian's frame well but that had never sought to bring this kind of pleasure trying to learn while the mech that owned them was being distracted.

It didn't take long for Jazz to find himself on his back in the plush berth of Prowl's room with the larger mech hovering over him and kissing him once more. By now Jazz's frame was burning with need and he moaned into the kiss. His hands stroked Prowl's frame in hunger. "What?" He asked between kisses, shaking.

"Let me fill your valve," Prowl moaned deeply, shifting so Jazz could feel the hard, heavily ribbed spike with a flared head rub against his thigh.

A shiver of anticipation ran though Jazz's entire frame as his valve cover snapped away, spilling heated lubricant. "Yes."

Prowl shivered in reply and claimed Jazz's mouth as he shifted to settle his knees between Jazz's and spread the younger mech's legs. With a slow rock of his hips Prowl rubbed the length of his spike along the slick platelets, teasing them both and spreading the lubricant. As Jazz trembled under him, he pulled his hips back and smoothly pressed into the barely-used valve.

The slender mech went still, moaning softly and trembling at the slow stretch of his valve, feeling each ripple and ridge. "Prowl..." He whispered, focusing on upwards, on the mech over him, locking the image in his processor. Prowl's features were lost in pleasure, his optics half-closed but bright, his mouth slightly open as he came to a stop, the broad head of his spike pressed against the end of Jazz's valve and the housing rubbing against the entrance.

"You feel very good," Prowl gasped out before he began to pull back, creating ripples of sensation as each ridge on his spike stimulated the valve nodes, then left them untouched only for the next ridge to press against them.

"Forgot-" He had forgotten how good it felt to be with another like this, and Jazz's field pulsed out unchecked to wash over Prowl. His hands grasped the Praxian's arms, bracing himself against the pull. "How good."

"Yes," Prowl moaned, his helm falling further forward as he pressed in again, just a bit faster than before. "Don't hold back, lover."

"Yes, please." Jazz moaned as his frame tried to match the motion and the pleasure. Awkward and inexperienced, but wanting so badly as his valve rippled and squeezed.

"That's good," Prowl shivered at the pleasure of being inside a frame smaller than his own. He wasn't a fan of teaching intimacy, but he admitted it had its perks as he drew back and pressed inward again. His lover was eager and willing, and so very responsive as he moaned and panted beneath him. Another surge of pleasure washed over him from Jazz with the next thrust, and the warning charge that young mech would not last long this round.

Prowl's long sensor wings swept out in anticipation, the fingers unlocking and spreading to give more points for the charge to zap across. He drove forward again, picking up the pace once more and reveling in the way the flared head of his spike caught each sensor node's charge as it passed.

Wonder flared across their touching fields from Jazz at the sight, chased by another surge of pleasure. The next thrust drew a keen from the slender mech, optics going blindingly bright as energy surged through him. Prowl trembled and moaned as the charge crackled into him everywhere they touched, particularly into the sensitive skin of his spike as the conductive lubricant conveyed the energy even better than metal on metal.

He continued to thrust, shaking and gasping as Jazz locked up under him in the grip of the overload. He made the choice in that moment to hold back and continue the steady pace. It would draw out the pleasure for his lover, bring him down gently and slowly, and it would make the second overload, the one where Prowl let himself go, all the more intense for them both.

Keening gave way to soft moans, the charge tapering off to a steady flow that was already building again by the time the blue optics focused on Prowl. There was a slowly clearing haze in them as the owner reached up to touch Prowl's helm, fingers brushing over the chevron. "Felt so good. You... not yet?" Confusion, and Jazz's processor cleared enough to allow another memory to rise, where Prowl had not shared pleasure with him. "Why?"

"I want to overload as you come down a second time," Prowl purred and claimed a slow kiss as he continued to thrust lazily despite his charge. "This one hit a bit fast for me."

"Mmmm...sorry." Jazz apologized as he purred into the kiss, still hazy from the pleasure but a little more focused now. Hips rolled up to meet Prowl, timed better now to bring the Praxian deep into the still charged valve.

"Ohh, don't be," Prowl shuddered at the effort and the little bit of extra pleasure it caused him. "I don't want you to hold back. It's a bit of a rush, to cause an overload that fast."

"Then take me there again." Jazz asked, daring to pull the Praxian down for another kiss that was returned eagerly. Prowl parted his lip plates and caressed his glossa along Jazz's lip plates, silently asking for more that the chaste kisses they'd shared so far. His request was granted, a curious glossa meeting his own as the lip plates parted. This Jazz seemed to know better, his field rippling against Prowl's pleasantly.

They slowly mapped each other's mouths and glossa as Prowl's steady thrusts built their pleasure slowly, allowing them time to enjoy it and the kissing. Still, despite the overload less than a breem before, Jazz's frame was soon rocking in demand that was ready answered.

"Again." Jazz moaned, reaching out to pull Prowl close, his valve already charged and squeezing around the thick spike. "Again."

"Yes," Prowl moaned. This time his charge was close to that of his lover's and he eagerly began to thrust faster. He reached one hand back to pull Jazz's knee up and keened at the sharpened pleasure the new angle created.

The shift caught Jazz by surprise, but the surprise was lost in his own keen of pleasure when he processor registered the change. Prowl was good at this, so very good. Better than Jazz had suspected, even with all he was able to hear when the Praxian with others.

Thought was lost with the next thrust, and he surrendered to the charge that rushed through him again. It was intense, almost frighteningly so, but in the very best way of losing control. Prowl continued to thrust through Jazz's overload, his entire frame trembling as he held back until the last moment.

Jazz was actually half aware again when Prowl roared above him and drove his hips forward hard to bury himself as deeply as possible, then ground their arrays together as he surrendered. Hot, thick, crackling transfluid erupted into Jazz's valve, carrying the far higher charge that Prowl's frame needed directly to the deepest sensors.

The rush spreading through his frame from his valve drove Jazz over the edge again, pushing his charge higher than it had been before and dropping the slender mech into hazy exhaustion as the charge faded once more. Only this time his lover -- and oh he was enjoying that thought -- was sinking down with him. He could teek the reluctance in Prowl's field as he shifted sideways to rest against Jazz's side rather than on top of him.

"I believe we will have a very enjoyable time together," Prowl murmured, content and sated enough.

Jazz hummed as he snuggled into the other warm frame, his field echoing his own thorough contentment. "Hope so. Felt so nice. This too." He added softly and truthfully. He had missed being close to another. The overloads rocked his world, but the real prize was this closeness, recharging together, booting up next to Prowl.


	5. The Imperial Showcase in Praxus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weird organic thing Jazz saw at the Showcase entrance was something like  
> [ Dinosaur Rider](http://nathanrosario.deviantart.com/art/Dinosaur-Rider-49719896) by [NathanRosario](http://nathanrosario.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)  
> but with this critter as the rider  
> [ Triceratops](http://captainninja.deviantart.com/art/Triceratops-288157516) by [CaptainNinja](http://captainninja.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

It was often thought of as a once in a functioning opportunity where Jazz grew up, though many mecha went to several over the much longer lifespans of the upper classes and safer castes.

For a city to host the Imperial Showcase was a great honor they all competed heavily for. Praxus had not hosted one in sixteen hundred vorns and even Jazz picked up that for the more patriotic mecha of the city, this was intolerable. Prowl had put in double and triple shifts for vorns leading up to this. The planning commission had utilized his processor heavily for far more than security. The mech was exhausted, rarely had the energy to interface and just as rarely had the time for more than a quick cube and to collapse in his berth.

Despite this, Jazz heard a lot in that breem before Prowl shut down. It was a single seemingly random comment that had him jacked up for the next decaorn though.

Prowl intended to take him.

 _Jazz_ would be going to the Imperial Showcase.

From that moment on he had barely been able to control his excitement. The revelation had spurred Jazz to do all in his power to make Prowl's life as smooth as possible despite the extra demands being placed on him.

The orn arrived that marked the opening of the Showcase, and if it was possible Jazz saw even less of his sponsor for several orns.

Then a night off, and the arrival of the first off orn that Prowl was able to attend as a mech, and not an officer on official duty. It was also the first orn that Jazz was going with him, and the young mech came close to damaging his own finish in his excitement to clean up for the event.

"You'll have enough opportunities to see everything during the three metacycles it is here," Prowl chuckled from the washrack door. "And the next time Praxus hosts you will be able to go on your own."

"Still, thank you for being willing to take me this time." Jazz said as he stepped out from under the dryer, fluffing his armor and settling it all with a shiver of his entire frame.

"You are welcome," Prowl inclined his sensor wings in acceptance. "Since I am sure you have looked at the offerings, do any stand out as something you wish to see?"

"I know I won't be able to see them all, but I'd like to catch as many of the music presentations from the different cities as I can." Jazz as he moved to join Prowl, pausing for a moment to check his reflection in a mirror. He would not bring his sponsor shame by being less than perfectly presentable in public.

"It is said that the Hall of History is worth waking though. And ... anything Iconian too." He added in a softer tone.

"The concerts you do not watch are available on the Showcase's site," Prowl said as they walked to the lift to go to street level. "A holo-tour of everything is, actually. Though it is far more impressive in person."

"How many have you attended?" Jazz asked as they traveled, curious as rode the lift down to the street.

"Twenty-nine," Prowl answered as transformed in the merging lane and pulled into traffic. ::I make an effort to attend each one, though circumstances kept me away from two. Every city brings a very different atmosphere.::

::What is your favorite part to see?:: Jazz asked, tailing Prowl carefully though the heavier than usual traffic.

::Arts, new technology and alt mode displays, though I enjoy shopping all the different energon and confections the most. History and law are personal favorites, though they do not change much from one Showcase to the next. I try to at least drive though all the exhibits once.::

::Looking at the different alt modes sounds like fun.:: Jazz agreed as they slowed, the traffic growing thicker the closer they got. It was not the first time Jazz was grateful for the courtesies that Prowl's markings earned them. ::Where are we starting?::

::We can begin with alt modes and mods. I find it difficult to become bored with it. Though I intend to pick up several snacks on the way. The edibles are the most varied you will ever find in one place.::

"My carrier used to make treats from Iacon on special holidays..." Jazz commented as they transformed, his words tapering off as he looked around in wonder. He'd seen beautiful things in Praxus. He'd seen parts of the city and a view that he couldn't have comprehended when he'd been with his creators. He'd studied the maps of the Imperial Showcase. He'd read up on what the various areas had and where each city or company was on display within the areas. 

This though, this was beyond anything he could even imagine. The number of people was processor-numbing. The number of frame types was stunning. The excitement so prevalent in their fields was addictive. He didn't even notice Prowl's hand on his arm as his optics zeroed in on something he couldn't process.

It wasn't a mecha. He had no idea what it was, but it was neither protoform, nor did it have armor. It stood a bit taller than the mecha's waist it was next to, and it stood on two limbs, but the majority of the body was horizontal rather than vertical. Yet it seemed to have two heads on two long necks with limbs in places that made no sense, other than the fact that ones behind would serve to balance the ones in front.

The noises one of the heads was making were also strange, rumbling roaring growls that were like nothing Jazz was familiar with any Cybertronian creature being able to form. The whistling-hoots from the second head in response were even stranger, though those at least had a cadence that sounded like they might be actual words.

"Prowl...what is that?" He asked when finally found his own voice.

The Enforcer glanced over and his sensor wings flicked in amusement. "That is one of the organic races in the empire and its organic mount. The rider is the sentient one, a Zunisertos." He pinged an image to Jazz that separated the two and gave basic technical specs on each.

Jazz settled a little, though he was still fascinated. "Are there many visitors to the showcase like them?"

"That species, from another world, organic or not mecha?" Prowl asked.

"Other species, other races. Mecha, organic...Not Cybertronian, I guess." Jazz asked as they started to move through the crowd, the young mech finally remembering enough of his manners to not stare.

"They are far outnumbered by Cybertronians, much as Praxians far outnumbers visitors. By the reservation statistics, roughly eight percent of visitors will be aliens with special needs. Another twelve percent will be aliens without special needs or mecha of some kind." Prowl rattled off.

"Wow." Jazz couldn't help but comment as they walked down a lane, and Jazz's senses were assaulted once more. This time it was his olfactory senses, the smells of delicacies both Cybertronian and foreign washing over him. And for every one that he could sense there had to be at least two more that he couldn't see. He could hear music as well as Prowl walked them through the entrance without pausing.

Just inside were a few rides, simple things mostly. The kind to settle young creations after the wait in line. A few snack stalls were about. Mostly they were things that Jazz was reasonably sure were edible for him, and he relaxed slightly when he read one of the signs and realized that they were boldly labeled as to what kind of being could consume it.

"Did you organize all of this?" Jazz asked, pulling up the map that he had downloaded and looking around, pinpointing their location and that of their first destination that Prowl had mentioned. The display of new technology and alt modes was not far away, if they wanted to start making their way to the left wing of the showcase.

"Not all of it. There are entirely too many political intricacies involved for me to understand fully. I did do much of the layout once presented with the requirements of various parties. I had a team to work with however," Prowl admitted as he headed for the snack stalls.

The Enforcer's shadow tagged along willingly, looking around Prowl as the mech procured the first two of what he had hinted would be many snacks during the course of the orn. This time he noticed that Prowl didn't pay and not a glyph about cost was exchanged. A pair of Enforcers, patrol mecha, wandered near and split up. One headed out the gate and the other ghosted towards Prowl as he and Jazz left with the box of goodies. 

"What is it?" Jazz asked even as he obediently accepted the sphere-shaped object.

"A layer cake. It's meant to roll around your mouth and suck on," Prowl said, then canted his wings in greeting to the lower-ranked Enforcer. "Sideshot."

"Prowl," the other greeted in turn and fell somewhat in step with them. "Who is this?"

"My charge, Jazz."

That answer seemed to startle Sideshot, because he flicked his wings and gave Jazz another long look. "Well behaved."

"Of course," Prowl flicked his sensor wings in dismissal of the surprise. "I have not been wrong about a mecha yet."

Jazz resigned himself to being dismissed again. Sometimes it was easy to forgot, too easy to forget, when he was with Prowl that to the rest of their kind he was still not a real mech. Instead he focused on the treat that Prowl had given him, popping it in his mouth and being pleasantly surprised as the first layer began to dissolve on his glossa, the semi-sweet smooth oil a flavor he couldn't identify right off.

"Still seems a waste to clutter your orn off with work." Sideshot commented as they continued, Prowl subtly leading the way.

Prowl gave a displeased grumble of a sigh. "A charge is not _work_ any more than a creation is."

Sidesot was at least smart enough to recognize when he treading on a sensitive subject, and let the matter drop for other things. "So what are you here to see this orn?"

"In part my usual, sampling as many snacks as possible," Prowl readily accepted the change of subject even as he gave a glance towards Jazz to check on him. "The first stop is the alt mode and new driving mods exhibits."

The young mech noticed the look and drifted close enough for Prowl to teek his field, a mix of excitement, acceptance, and with an edge of pleasure from the treat he was still consuming and the new flavors and textures that met his glossa on a regular basis.

There was general silence for a time, the two Enforcers long used to how to patrol and lacking the coding to need idle chatter to keep their processors or social protocols occupied. Jazz was only halfway through the layer cake ball when they entered the open sided alt mode display area. Two dozen stories tall and as large as a warehouse on each level, the vehicle blanks were organized by type and given plenty of space for visitors to circle them without bumping into another vehicle.

Jazz optics were drawn multiple directions at once, and without consciously thinking about what was happening his pedes carried him in the direction of a sleek racing model. It wasn't something his frame was really designed to use, as it was pro-racing design and he was sports car, but it was _gorgeous_ with a stripe of deep blue down the center flaring out to mix with the white sides and pale green wave near the bottom.

He circled it slowly, taking in the listed specs and the wonderful detail. The frame design was much lighter than his own, the armor an alloy composite to give it strength while not weighing it down. It was not until he had completed his circle and arrived back at Prowl that he stopped, his field flaring with guilt at having just taken off.

"This is why we are here," Prowl chuckled, accepting the apology. "You are not that difficult to predict anymore."

"It's probably a good thing I didn't know some of these existed before my upgrades." Jazz commented as they walked by a slender racing cycle, and then passed a heavier luxury model.

"You would have chosen differently if you had known what a pro-racing alt looked like?" Prowl asked, genuinely curious.

"No, but it might have given me ideas for other things. I was shown some nice pro-racing models that were in my mass range, but none of them were as attractive as the one I ended up with." Jazz answered.

"Good," Prowl relaxed fractionally as they continued to slowly walk through the show. 

Each manufacturer had its own area and chose what models they displayed. As Jazz was checking out designs near his mass and he could ask to have, he noted that Prowl was being unusually touchy with a designer convoy class. It was sleek and elegant compared to what Jazz thought of for those types, but the mech it belonged to would be no smaller. Prowl wasn't the only Enforcer checking it out, and their attention had drawn the notice of a couple convoy class mecha.

"Something special about this one?" Jazz asked softly as he came up behind his sponsor, studying the design curiously.

"It is an excellent mix of power and elegance," Prowl attempted to explain. "There is a strong appeal to such powerful frames and the sense of protection they offer. To have one this attractive is rare outside the nobility."

"Interested for yourself?" Jazz asked as he tried to do the math on the mass ratio. "Could you support it?"

Having his sponsor suffer fewer injuries was always attractive to Jazz. He always hurt when Prowl was injured, even if there was nothing wrong with Jazz's own frame.

Prowl actually startled slightly and one of the Enforcers nearby chuckled.

"No, this is well above my mass class. While my spark is technically capable of supporting a frame this size the price of stripping my upgrades is far to high for me," Prowl attempted to answer. "The appeal is more in a partner or lover."

"Some mecha like sleek and fast. Most enforcers go for armor and power," another Enforcer added with a bit of a smirk.

"Oh..." Jazz stepped back, taking it in again quietly, his field pulling in close as he considered that, and watched Prowl caress the display design. It was only another klik before Prowl walked on.

"It bothers you that I find another frame class desirable?" Prowl asked quietly.

His charge was quiet for several kliks as they walked, circling some other models presented for display, before Jazz finally answered. "Not really. It's your functioning, after all. It's just not something that I had ever considered."

Yet another one of his self centered faults, Jazz had to admit to himself.

* * *

Jazz was tired and his processor overloaded by all he'd experienced in the past eight and a half joors. As amazing as the Imperial Showcase was, he was grateful to be home. He followed Prowl out of the lift, stuffed from all the treats his sponsor had indulged with him that orn and not all hungry. Still..."Evening energon for you?" He asked Prowl.

"Perhaps after we burn off the treats we had today," Prowl rumbled without any effort to disguise his desires. "I was hoping you would indulge me tonight."

"Of course." Jazz drifted closer, frame brushing lightly along the heavier Enforcer as his field flared warm and teasing. "What do you have in mind?"

Hunger flared hotly across Prowl's flied and he stepped onto the lift to go to the berthroom. "Did you ever open the second door in my berthroom?"

"There's a second...no, I didn't." Jazz admitted as he followed Prowl into the master berthroom, looking around for the missing door. His gaze followed Prowl to the wall that was close to the washrack and the nearly invisible door seam that slid open to Prowl's touch.

"It's my playroom," Prowl trilled, the glyph laden with sensuality and kinkiness.

"Playroom." Jazz repeated, the glyph sending a shudder through his frame, one of anticipation. He followed Prowl into the room basking in a dim red glow of lights and looked around. There were chains on the wall, securing points on the ceiling, an X-frame, a berth, cuffs and a display of objects that Jazz couldn't even begin to recognize. The few he did know registered as weapons. Those were enough to make him pause in his tracks, looking from the weapons to Prowl, unsure.

"Some mecha enjoy pain with their pleasure, or simply need to be pushed to the very brink of their frame's capacity to find some solace. I usually deal with the later type," he explained, his expression serious. "They are not for my enjoyment."

Reassured, Jazz relaxed and began to slowly circle the room, investigating the contents. He tested the weight of the chains and cuffs curiously, noting that they were strong but had a thin padded lining so they wouldn't scrape at finish or sensors. Even up close he had no idea what most of the objects were except for the obvious weapons and reassured himself that Prowl had never once shown any indication he enjoyed causing pain. Whips and blades and sharp tips were not going to be used on him and he trusted Prowl at his word. He ran a hand over the berth to test the firmness and found it harder than Prowl's but soft enough to be comfortable. The restraints were padded like the loose cuffs and were shaped differently for wrists, ankles and sensor wings.

"And what did you have in mind for tonight?" He finally asked as he turned back to Prowl.

"To bind you," he motioned to a pair of free hanging cuffs as he stalked forward, every line of him a hungry predator and heavily aroused. "Touch you. Learn more of what you enjoy. Find out how far I can push your pleasure until you either pass out or beg to stop."

Jazz shivered, turned on by the promise in a way that was new and strange. "And the rules?"

"You may call a stop at any time for any reason. It becomes unpleasant. You need energon. You want to recharge. Any reason at all," Prowl was deadly serious despite the arousal and the caress to Jazz's face. "I want you to get into the habit that while bound, if you need to be released immediately and for all play to stop, say arrow. It's our safeword."

"Arrow." Jazz repeated, locking the word into his memory, and all of the connotations that it now held as he leaned into the soft touch on his face. "I trust you."

With that he held out his hands before him, waiting for Prowl, his sponsor by day and lover by night, to do as he would. He felt the shiver of intense arousal caress him from Prowl's field and willingly allowed himself to be lead to an open space and shackles attached to his wrists, which were then hoisted up. The tension was enough that he had little freedom of movement, but not so much that it would create any strain.

Prowl's engine rumbled and his field swirled with arousal as he glided around Jazz, taking him and the situation in. "Don't resist the pleasure," he finally said as he came to face Jazz and guided the willing face up for a heated, claiming kiss. "I want to hear your cries."

"Anything? Everything?" Jazz murmured, lips chasing Prowl's for a deeper kiss, glossa seeking the pleasure that Prowl had already shown him.

"Many new things," Prowl gave him the kiss before pulling away. Strong white hands touched and stroked, light foreplay that Jazz knew well.

That frame under his hands quivered and followed the touches, seeking more as Jazz's field flared in gentle waves of pleasure that echoed the touches. "Talk to me?" Jazz requested softly, curious to see if his requests would mean anything, or if he was completely subject to Prowl's whims.

"About what?" Prowl leaned forward to breath across a stubby sensor horn as his fingers explored Jazz's back.

"Anything. Everything." Jazz moaned, then let a bit of vanity show through. "What you like about me. What you think of my frame. All of the things you want to do to me. What you want me to do in return."

Prowl's engine growled as he continued to touch, teasing along seams Jazz didn't even know were there. "You're sleek, fast, agile. You are delightful to race against. Your processors are your real asset. You're smart. You learn quickly. You adapt so quickly. It's a joy to witness and a pleasure to talk to you."

"Nothing compared to yours." Jazz groaned, even as he visibly preened at the praise, and his frame warmed under Prowl's hands. Quickly this was starting to become a true pleasure, his processor sinking into a mild state of bliss.

"My processors came at a price of adaptability. You have no such issues," Prowl murmured with a lick to a sensor horn. "But as to your frame ... I intend to fill you with toys, tease every bit of pleasure out of you with them and my touch. When you're finally too wrung out to stand I'm going to fill you myself and take you until you pass out or beg me to stop."

"Oh- please." Jazz moaned. There was an audible click as his valve covered snapped back to release the scent of thick, hot lubricant into the room. Everything that Prowl was proposing sounded so wonderful, so right, and Jazz wanted.

"Oh, so very ready. Slick and wanting. Just perfect," Prowl moaned as he slid a hand down to circle the valve rim with a finger, teasing and promising. "I want your spike too. I have toys that will blow your circuits for it too."

"Of course. Yes." Jazz agreed, the cover to his spike sliding away but spike staying hidden as the young mech bucked back into the touch, valve seeking more.

"So slick, so hot," Prowl moaned as his fingers slid away, returning to Jazz's hips and all the sensor and control clusters there. "Have you ever felt the transfluid rush through your spike?"

"Probably have." Jazz purred, leaning forward to seek another kiss. "Never thought about it though."

"What do you think of feeling those sensors lit up when you aren't overloading?" Prowl cooed seductively and claimed Jazz's mouth for a long, heated kiss that left the young adult panting.

"Possible?" Jazz asked when he was finally able to speak again, trying to process that idea.

"Oh yes," Prowl grinned as he claimed another kiss and stroked the cables and wiring in Jazz's hips. "I have a lovely little toy to do just that. It's quite intense."

"Game to try." Jazz murmured against Prowl's lips, glossa stroking and teasing as he explored this new game.

"Good," Prowl slowly slid one hand inward, palm flat to Jazz's plating as he came in under the spike housing and stroked upwards to test for how ready Jazz was.

The young mech's hips followed the touch, spike pressurizing into the Prowl's hand quickly as Jazz moaned. He already had very good memories of Prowl's hands there and what they could do. He suspected that those memories were only about to get better. More kisses came as Prowl slid his hand down, pressing his fingers into Jazz's valve to get them slick only to return to Jazz's spike to spread the lubricant along the sensitive length.

"Well?" Jazz asked softly, bucking a little into the touch on his spike, frame seeking more despite the way he was restrained. It felt good, what Prowl was doing, fingertips sliding over the hard length, defining each node and ridge. But he had hinted that there would be _more_ , and Jazz was curious.

"Only after your spike locks in place," Prowl promised with more kisses and gentle, stroking touches until he felt the mechanism set the spike at full extension and pressure. Jazz whined slightly when he stepped away, and his optics locked onto the long needle-like object Prowl returned with. The sight of the object made Jazz quiver a little, the thing in Prowl's hands looking more like an object of torture than of pleasure. He didn't say anything though, and watched as Prowl knelt in front of him. One white hand slid around to easily grip Jazz's spike while the other carefully lined the long, thin object up with the hole transfluid shot out of.

Prowl smiled and circled the hole with the tip of the needle, allowing Jazz to feel how blunt it was before he slowly pressed it inside.

The first slide of the tip into his spike made Jazz gasp. The feeling was not unpleasant, just odd and very unusual. Some part of his processor protested that this wasn't right, but it quickly drowned out by the distracting pleasure of the hand still stroking the length of his spike. A moment later the strange sensations from inside his spike registered as pleasure and he trembled at the intensity and newness of it. Sensors designed to register flow and pressure as pleasure were stimulated with both.

He sagged a little as his processor tried to figure out what going on, the pleasure flowing up through his frame all consuming in the moment. "Very good." He finally managed, looking down at Prowl with a desire to touch that he could not fulfill.

"Good," Prowl purred and stood. His hand left Jazz's spike and returned to caressing armor and exploring everything he could touch except that spike and valve that wanted it so much. "It should feel good."

"Does feel good. All feels good." Jazz assured him as his frame shifted with Prowl's hands, trying to follow the touches. The hands on his hips, his sides, they felt so good. Flowing up his frame to his shoulders and neck, and then along the length of his arms, drawing another gasp as they traced the armor of his forearms. Prowl repeated the touch. The armor there was clean, sleek, and apparently sensitive when Jazz was aroused. Prowl continued to stroke there, caressing around the edges and under the armor where he could.

Jazz's helm fell back, his frame growing hot under Prowl's hands as he moaned. Pleasure flared in his field as he twisted and squirmed. It all felt good, but it was teasing, driving him wild with a desire for _more_. Prowl's chest, his entire frame, pressed against Jazz's back, inundating the smaller mech with his heat and field.

"You are delightful when you're this hot," Prowl purred deeply, his x-vents ghosting over Jazz's sensor horns while hands moved down to Jazz's hips, the fingertips just barely caressing the edge of his interface array. "Should I take you now, or see how well a toy fills your valve?"

"Take, take please!" The slender mech pleaded, frame arching to rub back against his lover. Out of all of it, even what Prowl had shown him tonight, he still loved being taken and filled the most.

"Such simple desires," Prowl chuckled and offered Jazz the sound of his spike cover sliding open. With a deepening purr he rubbed the barred array against Jazz's aft, stimulating his already eager spike to extend and pressurize quickly.

"Yes." The agreement was quick and eager, the mech voicing it shameless as he did everything in his power to entice the other mech into giving him what he wanted. Angling his frame as much as he could to offer the hot, dripping valve, his field teasing in challenging, playful waves against the other. He was rewarded first with the pleasurable torture of that textured spike rubbing through his platelets and against the rim while Prowl's fingers stroked along the base of Jazz's spike.

"Touch. Tease." The words escaped Jazz with ease when they were lovers. What Prowl did to him was wonderful, catching him between two sensations like this where Jazz could not choose and only ended up craving more of both.

"Impatient," Prowl countered, only to steal Jazz's voice as he shifted the next roll of his hips to sink ever so slowly into his lover. The frame against his trembled, valve squeezing down around the spike in an effort to feel every inch of it as sensor nodes flared to life and sent waves through Jazz and into his lover. Prowl moaned and gripped Jazz's hips tighter, all but melding against the darker mech's back as he sank fully inside and held there briefly, then forced himself to go slowly as he drew back.

Jazz whimpered softly at the loss, hands clenching overhead, squeezing and grasping at open air as his field shared a desperate desire for more with his lover.

"Shu, shu," Prowl cooed, keeping his pace and holding Jazz's hips steady. "I'm not abandoning you."

"Trust you." Jazz replied, the emotion rippling through his field as his valve squeezed down on the spike filling it again, caressing the thickness filling him so well. It felt amazing in a way not even the new sensations of the sensors inside his spike being stimulated or the bondage and touching could compare to. He loved being filled on a level he was beginning to privately label as a kink. It wasn't kinky like this room represented, but it made him run hot just thinking about it in a way nothing else had.

Prowl moaned against his audial, his entire frame pressed as flush against Jazz's as he could as he began to thrust in earnest. The change had Jazz keening, bliss rising with the pleasure as he submitted to the attention. Surrendering like this, as completely as he ever had to a lover, was wonderful. Coupled with the trust that the Praxian had nurtured, it created a psychological feeling as strong as the physical pleasure, and intense enough to push the slender mech's charge to the point it was already starting to crackle over armor and frame.

The moans Prowl surrendered at the small zaps only encouraged Jazz's arousal, as did the rolling, steady thrusts lighting up his entire valve. By now Jazz was past words, past anything but panting and moaning as his charge grew. Coherency abandoned him completely with the rush of power that raced through his frame and filled the room heat. With the fluttering of Jazz valve and the heavy surge of current into his spike and frame Prowl roared and jerked upwards hard with the first burst of transfluid he pumped into his lover, then grunted and ground their arrays together with each following burst. 

It was a lax frame in his arms when he was aware again, Jazz supported by the chains, his lover, and very shaky legs. Prowl nuzzled him, relaxed despite the locked lower frame that kept him upright. "That was fun."

"Very much so." Jazz agreed, craning his neck to return the affection as much as he could from where he rested against his lover. "What's next?"

Prowl's chuckle rumbled between their frames before he moved to come around and face his lover. Without a word he pressed close and rolled his hips, rubbing their extended spikes together. Charged lubricant and transfluid smeared against Jazz's spike, making it tingle.

"Ohhh-" Jazz purred before he copied the motion, his frame rubbing against Prowl's as he leaned in for a kiss. Prowl's hand came up to cup Jazz's neck and pulled him into a deeper kiss, their glossa tangling. His other hand slid down Jazz's back to cup his aft and draw them more tightly together as the rubbing continued.

Already warm frames started to heat once more, Jazz moaning at the friction that they were creating, and the even more intense pleasure being generated by their spikes. The increased attention to his spike made him abruptly all the more aware of the sensations inside it and a soft whimper escaped into Prowl's mouth as the tingling pleasure moved outward as well as inward.

Prowl's promise of more was coming true, and Jazz was finding it very enjoyable. The small shocks as the internal nodes were stimulated sent shivers through his frame, and he pressed closer to his lover, rocking into the contact as best he could and reveling in the pleasure that was building. The first zap of electricity between their spikes caused him to gasp against Prowl's mouth, but the kiss still refused to end.

It left him whimpering and moaning as he chased the pleasure being offered, pleasure that was teased out of him by the mech holding him. It built much more slowly than when his valve was full, but it built, slowly and steadily, until Jazz had a difficult time processing anything but the crackling zaps of ecstasy between their frames and the heat and pleasure washing over him from Prowl's.

The intense rush when the overload hit was more than his processor could consciously handle. His frame was blazing, crackling with energy. But it was nothing compared to spike overload. The few nanokliks of back pressure from the toy- his helm fell back as he keened. A moment later his frame blazed even hotter when Prowl's overloading field slammed into him, the energy pulses flooding every circuit and from there into his very spark.

Reality whited out completely within a bliss that made Jazz floating, oblivious to everything but the pleasure for a long, wonderful moment. Eventually he realized that Prowl was still holding him, the kiss now chaste and lax and their frames still while they came back to themselves. Content, Jazz purred into the kiss as his field wrapped around his lover. It was settled and thankful, happy where he was.

"More, or are you ready to recharge?" Prowl asked with a pleased purr.

"I think I have another round in me." Jazz said as he nuzzled at Prowl, who purred with a flush of excitement. Jazz relaxed into the guidance as he was settled on his knees and they were spread wide, then secured in place. Once Prowl was satisfied with that, Jazz was leaned back, his arms still bound and the chain was soon hooked through a clip on the floor that stretched them back. It was an unnatural position, trying to lay back with his aft on his pedes, but there was enough play for him to settle in a way that he wasn't too strained. He was sure that whatever his lover had in mind would soon take his processors off the odd position.

Prowl's rumbling arousal just at the visual was nearly enough to distract Jazz from the odd position and he was sure that whatever his lover had in mind would soon take his processors off it completely.

"You do look so very enticing like that," Prowl's voice was thick with lust as he walked away, out of Jazz's visual range. "You'll put on an amazing show. May I record it for my personal viewing?"

"If you wish." Jazz agreed, relaxing his backstrut some more and ease the slight strain on his arms. Bound hands flexed slowly as he lazily wondered what his lover had planned for him now.

"Thank you," Prowl purred as he pinged the system to save the recording that always began when he opened this door for his own protection. He took a moment to browse the selection of valve toys before selecting one and logged it into his remote control protocols. He kept it hidden from Jazz when he returned, allowing the first impression to be of a set of rounded rings stacked together with multiple lines of nubs on each ring as it was pressed into the slick passage.

"Mmmmm..." The sound was curious and pleased as it issued from the bound mech, Jazz's frame arching upward at the first touch in his valve. New, and so very unlike the spike he had recently become accustomed too. It felt good though. It filled and rubbed, stimulating nodes designed to respond to friction and pressure.

Prowl purred at the reaction and visual as he seated the toy fully in Jazz's valve, then used a small magnetic strip around the base to lock it in place. He stood and walked around the bound, spread out mech and enjoyed the visual before activating the toy. Slowly each band began to roll, every other one going in the opposite direction.

With the first cycle Jazz's optics went bright, the mech gasping in surprise as the nodes in his valve were caressed by the toy. Automatically his frame arched even more, valve seeking to press into the pleasure being lavished on it as Jazz moaned. "Prowl."

"You are lovely in your pleasure," Prowl's throaty rumble came from a bit away. Though Jazz couldn't see him, he could place him from sound. There was a lounge with a perfect view of his splayed legs and dripping valve. Prowl was there, enjoying the view.

"You enjoy this?" Jazz purred, shifting as much as he could to give his audience the best view of his heated, dripping valve. It was easy to do, moaned and writhing as the nodes in his valve sent waves of slowly building bliss through his frame.

"Yes," Prowl rumbled, his harmonics thick with lust. "Particularly as a warm-up for self-servicing, or for what I promised you tonight and I'll be spiking you until you pass out."

And oh, there was no missing how much Prowl was looking forward to _that_.

The reminder of that promise drew another moan from Jazz, and visibly drove the slender mech's charge higher. Hot lubricant dripped from his valve, the scent of it and his arousal filling the air. High performance engines started to rumble softly, fans kicking in to try and cooling the rapidly heating systems.

"Tell me, would you enjoy having your hands loosely cuffed and have this toy inside you, running at a lower setting, all night? To boot to this pleasure building inside you?" Prowl was almost panting, but the hand on his spike was slow, not nearly enough to bring him to overload.

"It feels so very good." Jazz sighed, stretching and arching his frame in time with the rolling motion in his valve. "But you are still so much better. Would rather have _you_."

Prowl chuckled, the flattery and his pleasure at it showing freely in his harmonics. "Perhaps, but my moral coding will prevent that so that wasn't my question."

"Then only if you are going to be there to finish it what it starts." Jazz purred, helm rolling back.

"I'll keep that in mind if I offer in the future," Prowl purred deeply at the thought, his optics riveted on his lover's pleasure.

"Maybe we can plan it." Jazz tempted as he lay back, still except for the involuntary quivering of his frame with each cycle of the toy in his valve and the impossible pattern of sensations it was creating inside him.

"I'm sure we can," Prowl's purr deepened to a rumble as Jazz gasped and twitched. "We can let it wake you and leave it running while I play with your spike. Then I'll fill you as you scream my designation."

"Oh Primus!" The image had Jazz writhing in his bonds. "Prowl-please..."

"Overload for me," Prowl countered, voice thick with lust. "Show me how good it feels, how much you want me to take you to my berth and drive you past any endurance."

It was an order, but one that Jazz obeyed willingly, surrendering to the overload pushing at him with a keen of bliss and total release. There was no effort to direct the pleasure washing over him, only a display of for his lover of the effect that Prowl had on him, unchecked. By the time the toy stilled Prowl's field was deep in his and the Praxian was kneeling between his bound and spread legs. The toy was pulled out and then Prowl was over him as he thrust in deep and hard.

"Yes." The whisper welcomed Prowl as Jazz tried to focus on his lover through the haze still clouding his processor. All he could teek was lust. All he felt was fullness and pleasure. As his awareness flickered with Prowl's overload rushing into him, Jazz knew he'd done very well.

* * *

Jazz looked around the Imperial Showcase as he walked beside his sponsor, much calmer but looking forward to the orn just as much as the first. Prowl had promised new things, including an aerial demonstration that even Prowl seemed excited to view. The first stop, after the cruising around to collect many kinds of treats that Prowl both consumed and plied Jazz with rather shamelessly, were the Halls of Music. Each city-state and the Prime's Musical Corps had their own area, separated only by energy fields that blocked sound waves but not solid forms from moving about.

Jazz was fascinated, stopping at each booth and listening intently. There were some that he like more than others and he didn't hide it. Sometimes his optics would go dim as he focused more with other senses. The rhythms, the beats, from so many different places and cultures.

The Praxian one he paused in for a few kliks, smiling as he listened. The music was well done, the performance professional, but familiar.

Then he reached the Iconian section and Jazz stopped, instantly lost in music that was very dear to his spark. He hadn't heard any of it since he'd left home and had almost convinced himself he didn't mind. Then this, and he knew he'd missed it a great deal. He had no idea how long he'd listened when he felt a nudge on his hip. Blue optics flared to full functioning, and Jazz flinched. "Sorry." He murmured as he looked over at Prowl. "Time to move on?"

"The set is over, so yes," Prowl said evenly. He was quiet as they left the music area. "I will see if there is someone who enjoys it enough to listen to a few more sets after the air show."

"Someone else? Why?" Jazz asked, then thought about it as they moved on. "You do not care for Iconian music?"

"Not enough to listen to it for half an orn when there are things I find more interesting about," Prowl answered. "Some of it is quite enjoyable."

"I understand. I don't have to come back." Jazz said quietly. "What else is there to see this orn?"

"The Hall of History and the air displays of Vos and Helix."

"I would enjoy seeing those while I am out this orn. I can listen to music when you are out at work during the day." Jazz said, his field smooth. He was looking forward to seeing as much as he could while had the chance. He followed Prowl and stood patiently by him as they stopped at a stand selling something he couldn't even wrap his processors around. A thin metal cone with multi-colored gel swirled inside it with several kinds of shavings and powders that Jazz did recognize as treats. As usual Prowl got two and handed one to Jazz.

Jazz inspected it thoroughly before tasting and twitching in delight. "This is _very_ good. Where is it from?"

"Altihex," he pointed at a glyph on the stand before humming in pleasure after tasting. "They do a lot of molecular gastronomy."

"It's interesting." Jazz decided as he continued to work his way through the treat. It was not his favorite out of the snacks that Prowl had introduced him to so far, but it was one that he might not mind having again some orn.

He finished it off as they entered the Hall of History. Jazz knew it as one of the longest running attractions of the Imperial Showcase from what he had read. The hall was the history of the Empire, from theory and myth to actual records.

Jazz's step slowed a little as they entered, taking it in slowly. He kept some attention on Prowl, not wanting to go too slow for him again, but his sponsor seemed quite content to walk slowly and stop at each display.

One did make Jazz stop. It was the myth of how Cybertron came into being, a legend that Jazz had heard sitting on the knee of his carrier, and he could still hear the soft tones telling of how Primus had formed their planet around himself, a retreat.

Then Primus had grown lonely, and created the first of his children, infusing them with a bit of his own spark and feeding them on his own life energy in the form of pure energon.

The voice faded, Jazz coming back to the present starting to walk again without a word. His optics scanned the displays, how Primus withdrew slowly, watching his children from afar. How the different races slowly came into being, and the civil wars that had marked the slow formation of their city-states.

The ceiling was dedicated the Primes, their images and condensed personal biographies marking the eras their rules had spanned.

Civil wars. Religious wars. The building of society.

And then an incident that made Jazz stop again. Just before they had started extensive space exploration. The energon shortages and the wars that had set into motion the Citizen Registration practices that were still strictly enforced in most states.

"Why?" Jazz wondered aloud.

"To prevent widespread starvation and unrest," Prowl answered easily.

"Why did we let ourselves fall so far?" Jazz clarified, his voice soft and somewhat resentful.

"The same reason we require laws at all. Too many mecha are more focused on themselves and their desires than the good of the whole," Prowl shrugged his sensor wings slightly.

"The nature of functioning." Jazz said, quoting a saying of his sire's as he gave the display one last glance and moved on. 

Now they were starting to encounter displays dealing with more recent history and developments, and Jazz paused in front of the recounting of a rebellion against the rule of Cybertron from a colony.

"How much of this did have you functioned through?" He asked Prowl curiously.

Prowl pointed to a spot they'd already past, back in Nova Prime's rule. "Everything from there forward."

Jazz turned, scanning from where Prowl had indicated and to the end of the hall. His sponsor had seen much in his functioning. "Is there anything that really stood out to you? More important than the rest?"

"Genuinely, no." Prowl admitted. "The change of Primes was traumatic for many. I was not yet of a rank to have it matter significantly. I noticed when the Lord of Praxus changed more. The patterns of functioning, politics and orn to orn existence hasn't altered for much longer than I have existed."

They wandered the rest of the Hall slowly, the few events at the end things that had occurred during Jazz's much shorter functioning.

"Aerial show next?" Jazz asked as they stepped into the open.

"Yes," Prowl purred, his long sensor wings lifting eagerly. "Have you ever seen high performance airframes in action?"

"No, I haven't. I am looking forward to it, just from your descriptions." Jazz answered, his field flaring a little for Prowl to teek as well. Prowl's field caressed his in reply, the excitement his frame displayed lightly a dazzling rush to teek. They walked to one of the multi-level traffic lanes designed to allow mecha to quickly move from on area to another, transformed and drove to the enormous arena. 

Jazz continued to shadow Prowl, aware of the higher-than-usual Enforcer presence as Prowl stopped at three different stands to collect snacks before walking towards the entrance to the arena. By now he was familiar with the feel of the Enforcer deep in his work, even if on the surface there was little sign that the Praxian was not fully engaged in the world around him.

He took the treats offered him, tucking each away with a brief inspection to save until Prowl was ready to stop. That moment came when Prowl reached the standing space near the airstrip. "I have this quadrant." He gave Jazz a small smile. "Rank has some privileges I will use."

"Nothing like claiming the best seats in the house." Jazz laughed softly, pulling the first treat out of his subspace and giving it the same thorough inspection that he had given each one before tasting it. One, though it looked pretty, was so acidic Jazz's intake rejected the idea of it going down rather violently.

"Jazz?" Prowl quickly focused on his charge as Jazz leaned forward and coughed in pain.

"Not really my taste." Jazz wheezed as he regained control of his frame, privately both grateful and embarrassed at needing the support of his concerned sponsor's hands. Once he was steady and standing upright again he offered Prowl the rest of the snack. "I think it might be to yours though, if you would like the rest. Burns a little going down."

Prowl hummed and accepted it. He took a tiny nibble and the hum deepened with pleasure. "The green and rust one is quite sweet. It should take the stinging from your intake."

Jazz fished out the indicated treat, and his field smoothed in a way that followed the first bite down his intake. "Much better." He sighed as he leaned against the railing and looked up to scan the sky. "How long before the exhibition starts?"

"Roughly a breem. The first display is a team of nine seeker-frames from Helix, The Skyline Raiders. Partway through they will be joined by seventeen additional jet-formers from the Wingover performance troupe. When they are done the Vosian team will put on a performance."

"Why? Is it just to show off their skills?" There was no judgment in the question, just curiosity.

"Of course. That is what every display is about. Showing off the best the city or group has to offer," Prowl said. "This is simply one I find very enjoyable to watch."

"Why?" Jazz asked, causally moving a little closer as the area started to fill with more spectators.

The question made Prowl pause, surprised. "I suppose, like many Praxians, I have enough latent Seeker coding to desire to fly. It is also an incredible display of skill that would challenge even my processors to perform if I had the frame to try."

While Jazz processed that, the crowd finished filing in and there was a deep rumble on the far end of the runway. Jazz looked and focused to see a double line of Seeker alt modes lining up. Prowl pinged Jazz a comm frequency. ::Link it to your HUD. It'll feed you their intel and additional visuals.::

A klik later and Jazz had it sorted out, watching the feed scroll through as he studied the line-up, matching each with the feed as they rolled forward and the announcer introduced them. Engines powered up to full thrust in perfect unison and even Jazz could grasp that if even one of them was a fraction of a percent off the others, it would be a nightmare pileup. With less than an alt mode frame length between them as they took off, the precision and communication between the nine mecha had to be utterly flawless.

Jazz was fascinated as he watched the beginning of the display. It was almost like the music, striking a part deep in his spark. Only a part of himself that he had never felt before. The enthralled desire rolling off Prowl's field, and it seemed like every field around them, also kept Jazz focused on the action. Even if he hadn't found it fascinating once it began the fields would have made him eager to watch. It felt good to be around so many excited, happy mecha.

Take-off went smoothly, each pair of Helixian Seekers holding tight to the thrusters in front of him on launch before slowly fanning out into a diamond pattern with the last one lined to within a finger's width of the leader's centerline.

"How do they do that?" Jazz murmured, watching them in fascination, leaning over the rail.

"Millennia of practice, heavy data linking and if rumor is to be believed, spark-bonding," Prowl answered, his voice distant as he watched with just as much fascinated amazement and delight as the civilians around them.

"Spark-bonding?" Jazz repeated softly, curious and determined to look into it more the next time he was studying. A thought that saved for later as the roar of engines drew his optics skyward once more as the nine tetra-jets began to fly upwards into a rotating double helix until the leader flipped on his tail to dive down the center of the formation. As he passed each pair, they split away in opposite directions, as well as a different angle from all others.

"Amazing." Jazz's field flared in awe. It _looked_ like fun, and his spark fluttered as it watched, as though it wanted to be up there as well, even though Jazz knew that he would not be happy flying as they were. It still fed into his newfound love of speed and his longtime love of movement and performance.

He could easily understand Prowl's rapt attention and excitement at watching these masters of the sky perform a dance of incredible complexity and significant danger. Just a fraction of an angle off, a single hic in airspeed too fast or slow and half the unit could crash and burn.

It was easy to watch the performance, and the one following it, Jazz's field flaring on and off, rising and falling with each highlight of the performance. It did not even settle completely as the last of the performers soared away. He continued to stand, basking in the pleasure-excitement of the crowd until Prowl shivered his armor to settle it. Despite that effort Prowl's field was still rich with excitement-enjoyment from watching.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the performance," Prowl rumbled.

"Very much so. It was worth missing more music." Jazz agreed, obviously happy as they started to move with the crowd.

A sharp whistle above them drew their attention to one of the Helixian fliers hovering there. "Lieutenant Prowl." The flier gave Prowl a salute that was smoothly returned. "Might you be free tonight?"

Excitement and desire flared up in Prowl's field. "Unless I am called in unexpectedly. My home or your quarters?"

"Yours, unless you fancy the idea of being with the entire team," the flier chuckled at the way Prowl's wings twitched unhappily at the idea. "Got it," he confermed the data ping Prowl gave him. "I'll be by after last fueling."

"I look forward to it," Prowl replied, then watched the flier soar off.

"You know him?" Jazz asked as they continued toward the exit.

"Only by reputation," Prowl's wings gave a faint shiver. "That was Cry Crest. The leader of the Skyline Raiders."

"You get offers like that often?" Jazz asked, curious and wondering at Prowl's reputation that would invite such offers.

"From non-Enforcers it is rare. I assume he knows of me from military connections." Prowl answered. "Enforcers and military have many connections."

"I'll make sure everything is ready for your guest." Jazz hummed. "Is there anything extra you want me to pick up?"

Prowl paused as he double-checked the inventory at home and what the local stores, the ones that wouldn't hassle Jazz, carried. "Nothing for you to pick up. We'll stop by Distiller's for some specialty high grade. I'm not sending you out of my district alone."

"I appreciate that." Jazz said quietly as they transformed to run their errand and head home.

* * *

It was quiet in the apartment as Jazz unpacked from the day. It was the last orn that Prowl had off, and Jazz's final trip to the Imperial Showcase.

Stuffed full of treats and with many more memories, Prowl had gifted him with one more thing. Slowly Jazz pulled the print of Iacon out, looking over it once more before he turned a circle and tried to decide where to place it.

It had made him pause when they walked by it in the cultural market. It was the first image that he ever seen that captured Iacon as his carrier had always described it too. A place of knowledge, culture, and order, but also light and creativity. He had spent several kliks looking at it, before sighing and turning to move on. Only Prowl had pulled him back, and presented him with the wrapped package. Jazz had been startled speechless and his loyalty and affection to his sponsor soared yet again.

Despite knowing that Prowl was in the hot oil pool and waiting for both dinner and Jazz, Jazz took his time in selecting where to place the image. He might not recharge here often, but it was _his_ space and it was slowly being decorated with small things that Prowl had given him over his service. Of them, Jazz was sure this was the most expensive.

He hoped that Prowl would forgive him for the delay as he finally hung it on the wall where he would have a clear view from his two favorite places in the room- his berth and his reading corner. Satisfied, he offered it one last look and went to fetch the energon and treats.

He didn't bother knocking as he slipped into the washroom, already anticipating the hot oil and his lover's attention. When things started with Prowl in a good mood and processor space they ended with blowing Jazz's processor. Just the thought of some of the things Prowl did to him made him shiver as the Enforcer looked over his shoulder at him and smiled softly.

"It has found a home?" Prowl's voice was all but a purr, relaxed as he was in the simmering oil.

"It has." Jazz informed him. He set the energon and within reach and knelt down to kiss his lover, his field flowing out to wrap around the Praxian with affection and wonder. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Prowl purred and extended his hand. "Do join me."

Jazz didn't need a second invitation, taking Prowl's hand and sliding smoothly into the oil with a sigh. It had been a good orn, but a long one as well, and the heat of the oil felt good as it seeped into his frame. Prowl's field felt good as it mingled with his too, as did the warm, relaxed frame that held him as Prowl reached for his dinner cube and sipped on it.

"Did we miss seeing anything you were hoping to experience?" Prowl paused for a kiss.

"Nope." Jazz answered when their lips parted. "Got to see more than I had hoped to actually. And enjoyed most of it very much." He added, leaning in for another kiss.

"Good," Prowl purred more deeply as he allowed Jazz to taste the energon on his glossa before drawing back enough to lift the cube to Jazz's lips. "What didn't you enjoy?"

The young mech sipped smoothly, pleased to take energon from his lover's hand. "Could have skipped the gladiatorial matches. I understand their reasoning for them, but they still feel like a waste of energy to me."

"If they didn't keep so many otherwise uncontrollably violent mecha occupied with a legitimate function, I would agree with you," Prowl hummed. "I wouldn't have gone if I hadn't been expected to attend at least one match."

"I know. Maybe it's the mecha that do enjoy watching them that I understand less than those who participate." Jazz mused before accepting the energon being offered his way again.

"That, I admit, is largely beyond my understanding as well," Prowl admitted after taking a sip for himself. "Was there anything else you would have skipped?"

"No. The music was amazing, and many of the performances were as well. Displays were interesting. And my glossa is still trying to recover from all of the new flavors." Jazz teased, leaning forward for a quick kiss between Prowl's energon. "Why were you expected to attend at least one of the fights?"

"It is the city sport of Kaon. I hold enough rank that if I'd avoided it for the entirety of the Showcase it would be viewed as a snub by Praxus towards Kaon," Prowl answered between soft kisses and traded sips of energon neither really needed. "It would eventually get back to my superiors, who would punish me for the political damage I did."

"Ah." That made sense to Jazz as his relaxed against his lover's frame, hands sliding over the Praxian's armor in soothing motions that soon turned amorous as they roused Prowl's engine and his field heated along with the kisses. "Not worn out from the orn?" Jazz teased, touches growing bolder as they found the small seams in the Praxian's sensor panels that drew moans and insistent pressing into the touches.

"Not enough to refuse you," Prowl's engine have a hard rev as his hands slid along Jazz's sides to tease every seam he could find.

"Would you try?" Jazz asked before leaning forward to kiss and nibble at Prowl's neck. It earned him a shiver and deeper rumble of desire.

"Only until my spike pressurizes on its own," Prowl tipped his helm back to offer more access. "After that I want what is mine."

"Challenge accepted." Jazz purred between licks and kisses, slowly employing many of the tricks that he had learned drove Prowl wild one by one.

The skilled touches on his sensor wings that made the Praxian moan. The nips and kiss to his neck, challenging and affectionate. The push and pull of Jazz field, inviting and teasing against Prowl's own. He felt every notch that Prowl's arousal grew, the sharpness of the vents, the hitching moans, the soft tremble of the hands caressing him and trying to distract him. It was addictive, this power he had to make his lover come completely undone.

The sweet reward of the spike cover sliding open was the first signal of Prowl's loss, and marked a more obvious surrender to Jazz's efforts. Jazz own arousal spiked again, rushing into his lover full of anticipation and eagerness, and he pushed his efforts even farther, rubbing oil slickened frames together. 

Prowl moaned and pushed into the rubbing, willing and eager for what was being offered and reveling in holding back that last little bit while fully sinking into the sensations his lover was providing. "Jazz," he moaned, soft and full of arousal.

"Yes lover?" Jazz purred, freeing one hand and reaching down between them to tease at his lover's spike housing. Prowl bucked into the touch, shuddering with a moan as his spike responded to by pressing out and up. His purr deepened, fingers teasing the spike as it extended into his hand. The pleasure he shared with Prowl only seemed to grow with each encounter and each passing night. And one of Jazz's developing personal kinks was being taken by his lover whenever Prowl took the notion. It wouldn't exactly be a surprise this time, not when he knew exactly what would trigger the reaction, but it was still delicious to think about.

Those times that Prowl did surprise him with only pausing long enough for confirmed consent were by far the most erotic in Jazz's memories. Especially the time Prowl had come home from work, already seriously revved up from a chase, and pinned him against the glass wall of the apartment and brought him to four blazing overloads before they had finally sat down to dinner.

Jazz's thoughts were still there when Prowl suddenly grabbed his hips and pulled their frames flush.

"Oh yes." Jazz moaned. Eagerness flared bright into his lover as he pressed against Prowl. He raised his hands to cup Prowl's face and kiss his lover deeply as his hips were guided up, then down to sheath Prowl's spike in a single smooth motion.

Prowl moaned deeply into the kiss at the sensation, but held his hips still. Instead he guided Jazz to lift his hips and brought them down. Still in complete control of the movements of Jazz's frame. His lover went with the motion smoothly, valve rippling around the familiar spike and sending shivers through Jazz's frame. Caught against Prowl and wrapped in the liquid heat of the oil, Jazz couldn't help but moan.

"So good," Prowl moaned between them as their arrays pressed together, sending jolts of pleasure through their frames. "You're so hot when you're turned on."

"And you know exactly who turns me on." Jazz teased him, valve squeezing down.

Prowl's powerful engine revved, adding vibration to Jazz's frame and to the oil surrounding them. "You say the sweetest things," he rumbled before claiming a heated kiss that mirrored what their frames were doing.

Jazz would have added more, but he was too wrapped up in the warmth and sensations surrounding him to gather a response that included much more than trying to tease his lover into continuing their pleasure. He was so enthralled by it that Prowl's roar and the flood of crackling transfluid deep inside his valve as their hips were suddenly ground together came as a shock. He hadn't been expecting it, and the surprise made it even better as he let go, sinking into his overload blissfully.


	6. Reconnecting with Kin

The Imperial Showcase was seventy vorns in the past and Jazz was aware that Prowl was already situated to take time off to visit the next one, which was being held in Polyhex. He also knew that he was invited to go with his sponsor. His delight when Prowl had told him had been thoroughly expressed to the Praxian. This time it was not so much at the prospect of being able to see another Showcase as it being able to travel to another city. That Prowl had that much status and wealth and was willing to take Jazz along was something that still managed to catch Jazz off-guard on occasion.

Even small things, like today, occasionally caught Jazz by surprise. Once he was in his adult upgrades Prowl was more willing to take him around Praxus, and often seemed to delight in torturing Jazz with cultural days to museums, plays and whatever else he thought might instill a sense of being Praxian into the half-breed. Today was not one of those days. At least not as far as Jazz was concerned.

Today they were in the Helix Garden, walking through the music created by the crystals.

Jazz was slightly jealous of the Praxians that possessed sensor panels, knowing that they could pick up the extra layers of sound and vibration that escaped him in this setting. Yet as he walked by Prowl it was hard to begrudge them too much as he was wrapped in the singing of the crystals that lined this path and the warm companionship of his sponsor-lover. Here, at least for a few joors, was one of the only public places Jazz knew of where Prowl let down much of his careful guard that insisted that Jazz was just a project and not something more. Jazz didn't know how much more, and he suspected that Prowl didn't have much more of a clue, but it felt amazingly nice to feel Prowl's field gently meshing with his own as they walked.

It warmed him down to his spark, and he drifted closer to Prowl as they walked, content to enjoy the time that they had together on one of the Praxian's relatively rare orn's off. Time drifted, something Jazz didn't need to think about as he simply enjoyed the garden, the crystal's music and his lover's warmth until Prowl finally guided them back to the street.

It was peaceful trip, the pair well used to maneuvering the traffic together so as not to get separated. Jazz was still humming something like the music that he heard in the garden as they took the lift up. He was distracted, wondering if Prowl had anything special planned for the rest of the evening as he tapped back into the general news feed. It was the usual for a klik and a half, nothing terribly important, right up to when he heard the district his brothers still lived in along with massive fire.

Jazz's entire frame locked up, the cube of energon in his hand falling to spill over the floor as he listened to the feed. 

Two apartment complexes were already destroyed, considered complete losses. Several more were in danger. The cause of the fire was still undermined, as were the number of casualties.

Jazz was out the door, stopping only when the lift required him to and not thinking about what he was doing or caring about anything but the need to see his brothers. They had to be safe. They had to be.

A strong hand pulled him back into the apartment, against a solid frame and into a worried field. "Jazz!"

The slender mech struggled against the arms holding him, his field a boiling mess of confusion, turmoil, and desperation. "Let me go! My brothers- I have to know."

"By rushing into a burning building?" Prowl's tone was sharp. "You don't even know if they were home."

"I just need to find them!" Jazz continued to struggle, processor spinning so hard it wasn't processing anything coherent at the moment.

"When the fire is under control." Prowl insisted as he held onto his charge tightly. "I am not going to allow you to risk lives."

"I'm not going to!" Jazz argued. Then the full force of Prowl's field slammed into him, freezing him again.

When his frame unlocked again he collapsed in Prowl's arms. "I have to find them. I need to know." he repeated again, the words soft and broken.

"We will," Prowl promised as he held his charge carefully but firmly. "After the fires are out, we will find them."

"Promise?" Jazz begged. The not knowing hurt. Prowl- if it had been anyone but Prowl Jazz would still have been fighting. His carrier was gone, and his sire too. His brothers- "They're all I have left."

"Yes, I promise," Prowl said with absolute conviction. "We will find them. Authorities and their managers will answer my questions."

Jazz's frame loosened more, leaning into Prowl's as he sought comfort and reassurance. "Are you getting more details?" He asked. "Do you need to go help?"

"I haven't been called in yet, though I expect I will be in a joor or two. The fire department is skilled at their function, but I have a city-wide specialty for organizing chaos. Once they begin to focus on how to house and fuel the survivors they'll likely want me." Prowl explained. "I have details, but nothing relevant. Numbers, no designations."

"How bad is it?" Jazz asked as Prowl settled them on the nearest couch, curling against the Praxian's larger, heavier frame.

"As bad as anything in a generation," Prowl admitted softly as he held his charge. "The chemical factory explosion thirteen hundred twenty-nine vorns ago was worse. This shouldn't have as many deactivations or long-term damage. It is bad though. Four buildings are already considered a loss. Two more likely to be so. Six beyond that are at risk though likely to be saved with limited damage. Sixteen confirmed deactivations. The rendered homeless will number at least fifteen thousand. It will take metacycles to clear and rebuild."

A small shudder ran through Jazz's frame, his field full of helplessness at the realization that there was nothing he could do but wait.

* * *

Prowl had been gone for an orn and a half and Jazz couldn't recharge, couldn't relax, couldn't focus. Not even the high grade he'd been given permission to consume had helped.

The ping on his comm was made his spark skip a beat, fear and hope evident in his tone as he answered. ::Yes Prowl?::

::I've found your brothers, both undamaged. Please come to the district stadium. Ask any Enforcer where I am.:: Prowl instructed along with a coordinate ping of the location. ::Drive _safely_. They are fine.::

::I- will. On my way. Thank you.:: The words jumbled together as Jazz locked up the apartment, bounding down the narrow access stairs instead of waiting on the lift.

He kept his promise to his sponsor, remaining within the speed limits and obeying traffic laws, but only just as he took the quickest way to the stadium. The smoke and damage were visible, rising above the city. It was enough to make Jazz pause and stare for a moment when he arrived at his destination before his optics settled on a mech bearing the distinctive enforcer coloration and insignia.

"Designation and home address?" The Enforcer focused on Jazz as soon as he approached the gate.

"Jazz. I reside with Enforcer Prowl. He said that someone would be able to direct me to him." Jazz explained.

Elegant sensor wings flicked in understanding and the Enforcer pinged him a set of coordinates along with visual markers. "Go in then."

The inside of the stadium was a collection of organized chaos. Family groups and individuals were everywhere, some of them carrying or standing over what was obviously all they had left.

Many had nothing.

With a soft sigh Jazz followed to the coordinates he had been, optics on the lookout for Prowl. Every Enforcer stood out, as they were designed to, and with his natural poise of command Prowl stood out more than most in this sea of industrial mecha with only one sensor panel.

Well before Jazz thought to call to get his attention, Prowl turned towards him. His expression grim, Prowl still managed a wing-flick of welcome greeting and gracefully moved towards Jazz.

"How bad is it?" Jazz asked very softly once he was in close to Prowl, optics scanning for his brothers as his field reached out to brush against the Enforcer's, getting a feel for how his lover was doing. Prowl was stressed, tired, but in generally good spirits. That was a huge relief.

"We were lucky in many ways. The fire began during the day-evening shift change. Instead of casualties in the thousand, there are only two hundred and six confirmed deactivations with one hundred and nineteen unaccounted for and presumed deactivated." Prowl's tone didn't sound like that was good, but Jazz knew how many mecha lived in those buildings. To lose six of them with only three hundred deaths was a small miracle. "Come, your brothers are this way," he walked off, unconcerned that Jazz might not follow.

"That is better than I hoped when we heard." Jazz murmured, close on Prowl's heels but in no danger of fouling the mech. "The fires are under control? The danger over?"

"Yes. The cleanup phase has begun. That will take at least two metacycles, possibly longer," Prowl answered.

"How long will-" The rest of the question was lost as Jazz caught sight of his brothers. "Skidshift! Shortrun!"

Two mecha twitched, looking around at the calls. The larger of the two stepped forward, standing straighter and taking on an aggressive stance until the first touch of fields.

"Jazz?"

"It's me," he smiled warmly and all but lunged forward to hug his eldest brother. "Did sire tell you a sponsor found me?"

"Yes." Skidshift said as he allowed the hug, then bodily held his youngest brother out at arms length so he and Shortrun could have a better look.

"He told us one night when we got home from work that an Enforcer had stop by. Then he got real quiet. We feared the worst until he finally went on." Shortrun explained as he came up and pulled Jazz close for a hug of his own. "He told us that you had been taken in and given an honest chance."

"An honest chance and so much more," Jazz couldn't help the purr and didn't hide the joy in his field. "Prowl," he motioned towards the Enforcer Lieutenant standing nearby, "I'll have my aliquis in nine hundred and eighty vorns. The upgrades are top notch, and I'll even have a Second Diploma when my contract is up twenty-four hundred vorns after that."

"And the price of all this?" Skidshift asked, optics locking on Prowl with the question.

"Keeping my home clean and stocked, preparing it for when I have company, not getting into trouble and displaying the traits of a well-adjusted citizen that I will not need to deal with in a professional sense," Prowl rattled it off without hesitating even as he pulled a datapad from his subspace and offered it. "The contract we signed."

Both of the brothers looked at it for a moment, then Shortrun stepped forward, taking the datapad and scanning it quickly until he arrived at both Jazz and Prowl's signatures.

"Truth?" He asked, looking at Jazz.

"Truth." Jazz answered, smiling at Prowl with warm affection as his field radiated sincerity.

"Truth." Skidshift murmured, looking from Jazz to the Enforcer, one hand resting protectively on his brother's shoulder.

"Have you two fueled?" Jazz asked, glancing at Prowl hopefully.

"I know there are cafes nearby," Prowl said quietly and slipped a credit stick to Jazz. "Take some time to catch up. I'll ping you when I'm headed home."

"Thank you, Sir." Jazz said, carefully professional where so many could see and hear. He glanced at his brothers as his sponsor walked off. "Did you save anything not on you?"

"Nothing. We were both working when the fire broke out. Our complex was already gone by the time we arrived." Shortrun informed him quietly as they followed Jazz from the stadium.

"I'm sorry," Jazz said, feeling lame. "Did ... did everybody close you to escape?"

"As far as we know everyone we know and care about it made it out or were gone." Skidshift grunted.

"And we're better off than many mecha." Shortrun continued. "We're only going to have to stay in the temporary shelter for a night."

"Where will you go?" Jazz focused on what might be good news.

"We are moving in with Skidshift's intended's family." Shortrun said, bouncing a little as he realized that he was actually sharing good news.

"Really?" Jazz twisted to grin at his eldest brother and felt the circuits try to make non-existent doorwings flutter madly. "Have you set a date yet?"

"We had." Skidshift murmured, his field shy but proud. "Things might get pushed back now. We had applied for our own apartment in the same complex. Obviously things have changed a little."

"I'd found a roommate, but that might have changed now too. I'm just lucky Codetrack's family is willing to put up me too." Shortrun chuckled, looking around as they entered the cafe. It was one they all knew from attending events at the stadium, which meant it was a bit pricey but not outrageously so. A check on the menu made Shortrun smile softly. The prices had been lowered to what a neighborhood cafe would charge, rather than one trying to make most of their credits on event orns.

"We have plenty," Jazz told them quietly as they found a table big enough to accommodate the two heavy duty frames.

"Your sponsor is good to you?" Skidshift demanded. His voice was low, but serious and all concern for his brother that he had honestly thought he might never see again.

"Beyond good," Jazz didn't hide how happy he was, or how much he cared for Prowl. "He's fastidious as the Pit and has long joors, but I've honestly never had it so good. First night there and he gave me room of my own with a nice berth. He had me repaired when he didn't need to and you can see the quality of upgrades he invested in."

"No abuse?" Shortrun pushed after their energon had been delivered. "It's not that we don't believe you. It's just, we heard stories of what happens sometimes..."

"No abuse of any kind," Jazz promised them. "He's scrupulously honorable and more than fair. I'm not his first rehab project so he had house rules and all that sorted out before the doc fixed me up."

"And you're happy." That was something that both brothers could see and feel just by being close to Jazz.

"So what are you planning to do after you get your Second Diploma?" Shortrun asked as he sipped on his energon.

"I'm thinking about trying for a Third Diploma, but I might go to work too," he admitted his lack of a set plan. "I have a _lot_ of vorns to work off after I get it."

"So the upgrades look good on the outside. What's hiding underneath? Anything special?" Shortrun prodded at his brother.

"A top performance street racing engine with an alt to match, one of the best sound systems and quality of everything to match the finish," he purred, still thrilled with his form. "Did either of you go to the Showcase when it was here?"

"We managed to steal an orn and go. Everyone wanted time off then." Skidshift grunted. "You got to attend?"

Jazz nodded, still thrilled by the memories even as he was a bit embarrassed that he'd gotten to see so much more than his brothers. "Prowl took me every orn that he wasn't on duty. It was amazing. What did you see, do, enjoy?"

"We made to the Aerial display. That was fun." Shortrun vibrated at the memory himself.

"And we ate too much." Skidshift admitted.

"Far too much." His brother moaned. "It took me tank an entire two orns to recover."

"But wasn't it _amazing_ to taste all the things from all over?" Jazz trilled with remembered excitement. "Even the stuff that wasn't good I was glad I tried. And the air show was _amazing_. The things they did at speed...." he drifted off, just shaking his helm at the precision required. "I loved Iacon's music display too. It was beautiful."

"We got to catch some of the music too. Nothing that caught us." Skidshift agreed.

"Music was always more your thing." Shortrun commented, the words layered with affection for his younger brother.

"True," Jazz ducked his helm and sipped his energon. "Did you get to go with Codetrack?"

"No." Skidshift sighed. "I wish we could have. We couldn't get the time off scheduled together."

"Sorry. At least you got to go together," Jazz tried to refocus on good thoughts. "Maybe after I pay off by debt we can all go together to one. If Praxus isn't hosting it'll be a lot easier to bribe someone to take a few shifts if we can't arrange it normally."

"If only." Shortrun sighed. "Never to be able to afford it though."

"I'll be able to though, with a Second Diploma job." Jazz suggested. "I don't have much by way of expenses right now."

Both of his brothers stopped, Shortrun choking on his energon as he processed the suggestion.

"No Jazz." Skidshift countered gently, though the field that wrapped around his youngest brother was warm with love and thankfulness. "You are building a functioning for yourself. Making more of yourself than either of us or our creators ever had the chance to. You shouldn't risk that in any way."

"Risk?" Jazz stared at him. "What risk are you talking about?"

"Travel between cities is _expensive_. And everything will be at a premium during the Showcase. You should hold on to your credits." Skidshift explained.

Jazz wanted to object, but these were his older brothers and they did know better. He'd ask Prowl about it though, after he had the job. Assuming Prowl agreed with him going, he'd help him do so without hurting his finances. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

"We appreciate the offer." Shortrun assured him, wrapping Jazz in a one-armed hug from where he sat. 

Jazz leaned into it. "You've done so much for me. I want to return it too."

"You are. Just by doing what you already are. Succeeding, and not losing yourself." Skidshift told him, actually smiling as Jazz melted the rest of the way into the sideways embrace and purred at the approval.

"So Skidshift has someone dear to his spark. What about you? Anyone on the radar yet?" Jazz asked, tilting his helm to smile at Shortrun.

The heavier mech laughed. "Not serious, no."

"Not that you haven't been seeing Crosswire more often when you are both off work or anything." Skidshift pointed out.

"Not serious." Shortrun countered, though it was a little fast and Jazz wasn't sure how true it was with the way his brother's field tightened unconsciously.

"Speaking of serious though- your sponsor." Shortrun suddenly focused on Jazz. "He's more than that, isn't he?" He prodded.

"Yes," Jazz's soft purr was resonant with remembered pleasure and affection. "He wanted to cut the contract time down for it too, but I talked him out of it."

"Why would you do something like that?" Shortrun demanded. "It's obviously from your field that you _like_ this...aspect." His own field made it clear that he was unsure how he felt about the relationship at the moment, and Skidshift's frown revealed much the same opinion.

Jazz ducked his helm at the disapproval, his field pulling tight. "It doesn't feel right to be paid for what I'd rather give. Not as part of a contract." He hesitated and spoke of something he'd never brought up to Prowl. "I have a lot more control of it this way too, when I'm giving and not being paid."

Tension drained from his brothers at the reasons and that made Jazz relax and look up a bit.

"Sound and good thought, little brother." Skidshift assured him as he reached over and placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "You sound like you, our brother. That was our concern."

"Yes." Shortrun added his own agreement, pulling Jazz closer again. "Though if you rejected his offer, what did you come up with instead? He doesn't seem like a mech to just wing it."

"He's not," Jazz snickered. "He writes contracts for everything, even what's given freely. Basically we agreed to be lovers. The same terms I was taught, just written up legal-like so he's comfortable. He was really cute for a bit there too, when he admitted that he'd never made this offer to one of his projects before. That felt good," he smiled at the memory of his slightly flustered sponsor. "I think what made it work for him was the idea that I was going to get as much as he did. I have the right to ask for what I want, not just refuse what I don't want to do. It's much more equal, and he gets that. He's teaching me too, like any good lover, exploring with me to find out what revs me up and what I can do without."

"Oh ho?" Shortrun smirked. "And so what have you discovered you like? Hm?"

"Shortrun!" Skidshift growled, though the reprimand carried little heat.

Jazz giggled with a grin. "Top item? Breaking his self-control by getting him so turned on watching or touching. It's _incredibly_ hot to get him that revved."

"Devious, little brother. Devious." Shortrun laughed, the sound one of approval.

"And so very, very enjoyable," Jazz grinned, relieved his brothers approved more now. "Both parts of it. Seems one of his kinks is watching a lover get himself revved. It's a lot of fun."

"It's always better when it's mutual, and there are things you both enjoy." Skidshift commented, relaxing back into his chair and twitching with surprise as a full energon cube appeared at his elbow, a small one of his magma favorite.

"We have plenty." Jazz assured him.

"Prowl's even better off than his rank suggests, isn't he?" Skidshift said cautiously as he took the cube and slipped it slowly, savoring the rare treat that was likely to become much more rare for some time as they rebuilt their lives.

Jazz nodded. "He's got a real processor for numbers and uses it to invest. I don't know what he's worth, but I know he's well off enough he doesn't talk about credits."

"That's got to be nice." Shortrun sighed as he accepted the sweetened cube of lava that appeared at his own elbow.

"It is," Jazz admitted. "I'm learning everything I can from him. I wish I could help you now, but I'm still centuries from by Second Diploma. Eventually though, if you ever need it, I'll be there."

"Of course you will. We are family." Skidshift confirmed before the talk drifted into other, lighter subjects. Catching up on the lives of kin, loved even while separated.


	7. The Academy

With over two centuries living together behind them Prowl received orders that surprised even him. Praxus was loaning him to the Academy for fourteen vorns to teach search and rescue and anti-riot tactics. It was difficult for Jazz to tell what Prowl thought of it, though he was fairly sure he was less than thrilled by it, but for Jazz it was an exciting prospect. He was going to see a new city!

The invitation to accompany his sponsor had been somewhat of a surprise as well for Jazz. Though after considering it, he was not sure how many options Prowl had. Leaving Jazz to look after the apartment for 14 vorns could be tricky. Not that Jazz wouldn't have done a good job and kept it responsibly, but Prowl would be far away if anything were to happen. To leave Jazz in someone else's care might have also proven difficult, seeing as how Jazz was Prowl's direct property.

It was all somewhat moot though. Jazz was going and he was looking forward to it. Prowl had given him a file that covered the laws, cultural quirks and other things a Praxian needed to know to deal with the Academy and the small city that surrounded it.

When the transport set down, Jazz was almost startled despite having been watching as much as he could out the window. He had been so distracted by what he was seeing that when they actually stopped he was disappointed. Habit had his attention on Prowl in the next nanoklik though, waiting for direction from his sponsor in this new environment. Cuing off the Praxian was so much easier than trying to figure things out on his own sometimes.

Prowl stood smoothly and motioned for Jazz to follow, a move that the smaller mech easily obeyed. Being near the front with the wealthy passengers meant they disembarked quickly, and Jazz looked around the small, military themed spaceport as he trailed the pace behind and half a wing-width to his sponsor's right like a good servant. The place was plain in a way, but also very informative in the portraits of who was important, military crests and clean, strait lines. It was unlike Praxus, which valued crystal, light and open space. This was closed in, felt bunker like even out here in the spaceport.

They were greeted by a mech who's stiff bearing was a solid match for Prowl at his worst, though the stranger was smiling. Jazz wasn't sure, but he thought it was an Iaconian frametype. Not one like his carrier's, but the classic from higher society.

"Lieutenant Prowl of Praxus?" the stranger asked, though it seemed clear he expected to be correct.

"Yes," Prowl flicked his long sensor wings.

"I am Lieutenant Long Watch, aid de camp to the Commander of the Academy. Welcome."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Long Watch," Prowl canted his sensor wings in respect and inclined his helm. Though of low rank for a military officer, this mecha held great power from his close association with the commander.

"There is one rule it seems you were not made aware of," Long Watch said with a touch of unease. "All pets must be on collar and leash at all times outside your quarters."

Pet- Jazz stumbled at the classification, almost knocking into Prowl's sensor wing. He straightened, quivering slightly, but held his vocalizer. It helped at the way Prowl stiffened as well, visibly displeased by the statement.

"If I had been aware of his classification here I would not have come until his rehabilitation was over," Prowl said coldly with the ominous sound of his sensor wing fingers unlocking, though they did not spread. "Where is this rule?"

"It is a standard across the Academy grounds, and is included in the section under provided housing and habitation. He will also need to be registered while you are here, and a temporary tracking chip will be installed."

"He's not a pet. He's a mecha and my charge." Prowl said flatly even as he accepted the choker collar and chain from Long Watch and turned to put them on Jazz with an apology in his field for the young mech.

Jazz submitted to the humiliation silently, his field pulled in tightly and his optics on the ground. It was safer that way.

"They were not sure what to classify a not-mech." The other informed him. "This was the best that could be done so that it could accompany you."

Prowl controlled his fury and humiliation at having another mech on a chain and leash as he turned to face Long Watch. "Understood. I will review the rules on pets tonight."

"A wise choice. Your things are being delivered to your quarters as we speak. Would you like a tour of that facilities before I show you to your quarters?"

"I would prefer to drop Jazz off at my quarters, then tour the facilities," Prowl answered, sure it would not be difficult. He knew that the guest staff quarters were near the core of the Academy grounds.

"Of course." long Watch agreed as he turned to lead the way. "There is also an invitation for you to have dinner with Academy director this evening."

"I accept," Prowl agreed smoothly as they walked from the spaceport. The chain between him and Jazz drew no small amount of attention, but no one commented outright where he could hear. He was sure Jazz was catching much of it though and regretted it.

Reaching the transformation lane Prowl handed Jazz the end of the chain so he could transform and follow them.

"It has an alt mode?" Long Watch stopped, clearly surprised.

"Yes. He is being rehabilitated to become a full citizen," Prowl explained. "Transformation and driving are a critical skills for a mecha to know. It was installed with his adult upgrades."

"I supposed." Long Watch said, the words those of agreement even if his demeanor was doubtful. He quickly folded into his own alt mode, though not before his discomfort showed.

While the Academy grounds were large, they were well laid out, as were the travel routes connecting each level and section. It was less than two kliks later when three forms pulled and transformed in front of the accommodations reserved for visiting faculty. Long Watch led them inside after a glance to confirm that Prowl had once more taken the leash and to the third floor where he had Prowl ping the door open to confirm that it worked for him.

Prowl immediately took the choke collar off Jazz and handed it to him. "Explore the quarters, refuel and unpack. I will return after supper."

The young mech took them, bowing smoothly to Prowl and pointedly ignoring their current guide as he turned and entered the room.

* * *

Jazz was sprawled out on the couch when Prowl came home several joors later. Their possessions were all put away. Jazz knew the layout and quality of the four-room layout perfectly and knew exactly how disappointed Prowl would be with the washrack and view. Neither were bad by any stretch, just having a private washrack was a luxury to most, but Prowl had invested as much into his washrack as a noble probably did and this one was simply not up to that standard. He was just glad there was a hot oil bath, even if it wasn't a pool like they had at home.

All of his chores, such as they were for now, were complete. But his mood was worse than it had been when Prowl had left him earlier.

"They gave me my own berth." He commented as the door closed behind Prowl.

The Enforcer paused. "One for a mecha-sized pet." He tried not to growl but his displeasure sill came through clearly. He walked up to his charge, his lover, and drew him close. "If I'd known they'd be this disrespectful, I would have delayed until you had your aliquis."

"Orders are orders." Jazz grumbled, frame tense and mood dark even in Prowl's arms. His field was simmering, bubbling with stress, anger, and frustration.

"Yes, they are," Prowl sighed. "I would have still handled this very differently."

"An aliquis." Jazz hissed, trembling and seething. "Is it really going to suddenly make that much of a difference? For someone like me?"

"It makes you a citizen, with all the rights of one," Prowl sighed. "Yes, it will make that much of a difference."

"But without it I'm _nothing_." Jazz exploded, twisting away to stand and face Prowl. "I suppose I should be grateful they deign to consider me your _pet_ and I assume are going to allow you to take me out for walks."

"Your creators did not pay for their sin, so it falls on you to pay for it," Prowl reminded him. "You are correct, without the aliquis you are nothing. I am disappointed that they have listed you as a pet, but it is better than putting you down on arrival."

"Is that what they threatened tonight? Putting me down like I should have been from the beginning?"

"No," Prowl scowled at him. "They ensured I understood that you did not have the separate expense account that a legal dependent would have and I would be held accountable for your actions, but no one threatened your spark. Once you passed customs it would be an insult to threaten you without due cause."

"And putting a collar and leash on me like I can't be depended upon to follow simple orders isn't an insult." Jazz griped before collapsing to the floor. "So what do I need to worry about while I am here? Or are you going to send me back?"

Prowl rubbed his chevron. "Jazz, I gave you the choice to come or not. It is your choice to return to Praxus or not. As for the rules, except when in physical danger, you may not leave our quarters without a mecha on the other end of the leash. Everything else is common sense."

Jazz's optics followed the movement, his anger fading. As frustrating as it was, Prowl was right. Like he always seemed to be.

"I'm sorry." The apology was grudging, but true as Jazz rose and crossed to kneel by Prowl. "I was...excited at the prospect of seeing somewhere else. I didn't really think about anything else."

Prowl sank down to embrace him once more. "I had hoped this would be a good experience for you. I knew it would be educational. I believed I had done my research to ensure that it would not be like this."

"You thought they would somehow accept me?" Jazz shifted around until he was in Prowl's arms once more and settled on the couch with his lover.

"I believed that the reaction would be similar to Praxus. I never expected acceptance, not as you mean it, but I did expect that they would accept you as my charge, as something legally allowed to follow my orders and move about with relative freedom. I doubt they understand that the leash is more humiliating for me than you."

"And how is that?" Jazz wondered, frame curling against Prowl's. The warmth and comfort of his lovers frame was soothing. It didn't hurt that he liked being next to Prowl anyway.

"A chain and collar was how one lead a slave around, before owning a mecha was outlawed," Prowl said quietly.

Jazz hummed softly. "There is some irony in the fact that you do essentially own me right now."

Prowl sighed. "As little as it is visible to you, the legalities of the difference between what you are and a slave are significant to an Enforcer. Just as the difference between an indentured servant and a slave are."

The young mech was quiet, his field touching Prowl's gently as he felt and questioned, feeling his sponsor and lover out before he voiced his next question. "Would it make your stay easier if I was to return to Praxus?"

"Yes and no," Prowl murmured. "I would miss you greatly. I would not miss the display we would have to put on in public, nor your boredom."

"I would miss you as well. I can deal, I think. Keeping things neat here will not take near as long. Which by the way- there is only an oil bath here, and it is tiny, so you might want to see if there is a communal bath that you can get a real soak in." Jazz informed Prowl before rambling on. "I'll just do as much studying as I can on my own, since from the general reaction you probably aren't going to be able to find me a tutor here. And...if you can tolerate taking me outside for a bit every orn..."

That last bit was hard for Jazz to spit out, not just because he hated the collar and leash and the confinement it was, but because of the distress it was clearly causing Prowl.

"I can, if you wish to stay," Prowl nuzzled him. "There is a ... pet park ... outside the gates. For larger mechanimals to run around freely. We could at least pretend it's a normal park."

"Try it? I doubt there is anything that would prevent you sending me back to Praxus at some later point if it proves to be too difficult to make it work here?" Jazz suggested, helm leaning into the touch and his field humming with pleasure.

"Agreed," Prowl slid his arms around Jazz. "We can try."

"Good." Jazz purred as his fingers started to wander along Prowl's frame. "Though if I am staying, there is one more concern."

"And that is?" Prowl hummed, his temperature already beginning to rise.

"I flopped on it a couple of times as I was putting things away, but I couldn't tell by myself if the berth they provided is going to be large enough for both of us." Jazz teased.

"Then we should find out immediately," Prowl chuckled softly and stood, drawing Jazz up with him.

* * *

Gradescale swiped the master key that would allow him into the guest quarters. It was not something that he would normally be in possession of, but it was amazing what simply saying that you were collecting presentation materials would get you. And this would be a presentation that he hoped would make a great impression on his students. He had not given it much thought when he heard that rumor that the visiting Praxian instructor had brought a pet. At least not until he heard what sort of pet the mech had dared to bring.

Some of his students had seen the pet around campus, and Gradescale was starting to hear comments that it might be a good thing, a good idea, this Praxian had. Gradescale was determined to show them that an aliquis-less mecha was as unpredictable and dangerous as a wild animal.

"Prowl?" a voice called out as he entered the living room. A sound of movement drew him towards the berthroom but the aliquis-less mecha walked into the living room before he reached the door. "Who are you?"

"My designation is not relevant." Gradescale informed Jazz as he approached the smaller mech, flipping the choke collar that had been just inside the door over his neck with ease. "You are coming with me to my class, so my students can see what a horrible idea keeping mecha like you alive is. Not that you can really understand what I am saying."

"Hu? Hay!" Jazz grabbed the leash with both hands to keep the choke collar from cutting off his energon supply. "This is Prowl's quarters. You have no right to take me from here. I'm his!"

Gradescale shifted quickly, throwing Jazz off-balance and bringing the slender mech to his knees. A jerk of the leash delivered a double correction, cutting off energon flow and sending a shock of electric current through the collar. Jazz yelped in surprise and pain, but mostly surprise.

"You don't belong to anyone. You shouldn't be here at all. And you are making a bad impression on students. An impression I intend to fix."

Jazz looked up at him, dazed and bewildered, but quickly catching on. Survival instincts kicked in and he went submissively compliant even as he sent a message to Prowl at the highest priority he dared to. It wouldn't reach his sponsor during class, not with Prowl being off campus doing a field trip with some students, but it would be the first thing he read when he got back in range.

Gradescale didn't bother with commands as he turned and started off in the direction of his next lecture. Jazz could come willingly or be pulled bodily along, it made little difference to the mech in command of the leash. Though in a way, he was bit disappointed he didn't drag the thing. At least it would look less docile and well trained. Damn Praxian had done some serious work on training his non-entity pet.

Well, if he couldn't sell it as aggressive, and that still might change, he could still prove it was stupid.

The walk from the apartments to the lecture hall was quick, the non-mech following along in an apparent daze. The looks and whispers that erupted when Gradescale entered the lecture hall pleased the educator, and he didn't pause as he led Jazz to the front of the hall and flicked the lead to bring the thing to its knees once more. It was compliant, though Gradescale was close enough to teek the irritation as it looked around, watching everyone with bright blue optics.

"Order class." Gradescale called. "We have a functioning example today of a non-mech. This orn's lecture is on non-mecha, and the protocols surrounding them."

There were murmurs after that, but it quickly settled. Jazz glared but didn't otherwise react.

"Now, who can tell me why we have the citizen registration program?" Gradescale started, leaning on the corner of his lecture stand.

"To ensure we do not stretch our resources too far," one of the students near the front responded when Gradescale nodded to him.

"Correct." Gradescale nodded. "And we normally put down unregistered mecha to protect those same resources. Does anyone know what the average length of the functioning of an unregistered mecha is?"

A general mummer of negative answered him.

"Most mecha do not last a vorn after they are on the streets to fend for themselves. If they do not deactivate on their own, they are usually apprehended for a crime and put down." Gradescale informed them.

Jazz believed it. He hadn't been on the street close to that long and he was desperate, near the end of his hope. He'd had no idea that being caught by those merchants was the greatest stroke of luck possible.

There were murmurs through the class. Someone signaled a question and Gradescale nodded to him.

"Why do people create when they can not afford it?"

"Selfishness. Stupidity. A desire to defy the rules." Gradescale replied. "There have been a few studies done, but none of them have been able to pin down a consistent reason for why mecha insist on creating more than they have license to."

"Hope," Jazz answered quietly. "Hope that they'll be able to pay the fine before it's too late."

The room erupted in surprise, mostly directed at the fact that he'd spoken.

"And 97% of the known cases of mecha with unregistered creations fail. Despite our best efforts to educate the population otherwise." Gradescale took the point and continued without acknowledging the fact that is was Jazz that had spoken.

Someone signaled for attention and was nodded to. "Where do the statistics come from?"

"The number of mecha that are put down every vorn against the number that are registered after creation. There is only an estimation of how many perish on the streets and are lost without record." Gradescale answered before continuing with his lecture. "Some mecha are reported, and the illegal creations confiscated and put down mercifully. Most are left to fend for themselves. These mecha are targets for criminals who use them to commit crimes. Since they are usually desperate to survive, and willing to do almost anything for energon."

Gradescale looped the leash around a handle on the podium and started to pace in front of the class. "You will find in the class access notes the statistics for the number and range of crimes committed by these desperate mecha. Everything from petty thievery to murder.

"There was, for a short time, a movement to try and rehabilitate illegal mecha. Give them another chance to earn the right to function. This program turned out to be a two-fold failure. The expense proved to far more than originally anticipated, and the failure rate was very high. Three-fourths of the mecha who entered the program failed to complete it. And even if they did manage to earn an alquis, nine out of ten mecha who returned to civilian life eventually found their way into the local corrective systems."

As the instructor continued on, Jazz slowly stood and waited for a break in the speech. "So, since he brought me here, supposedly as a teaching aid or example of some kind, who wants to hear what it's like to be without an alquis and the way the system is implemented to one who was affected?"

Gradescale stopped his pacing, optics taking in the defiant not-mech, and the rapt attention of his students. With a grudging motion he indicated for it to continue, crossing his arms. "By all means, do tell us, since it seems that you can speak by some miracle."

Jazz gave him a blinding smile and put on his absolute best manners. "As you have stated several times, mecha without an alquis are the creations of mecha with an alquis. What line of thought would lead anyone to believe that the creation of two fully functional citizens would not also be a fully functional mecha?" He turned his attention to the class. "An alquis is a form, a legal document, not something inherent in the mecha. Now, I can only speak of my own experiences, as I have not met another without an alquis. But I have a question for everyone. If you, personally, were bared from ever holding a job and had no one that could support you for the credits needed to survive, what would you do? Would you curl up in a corner and starve, would you turn yourself in to be euthanized, or would you do what you had to to survive? I'm not asking about some theoretical individual, but if _you_ found out tonight that your alquis was invalid, what would you do?"

Many of the students shifted uneasily under his optics as they passed over the class, unsure of an answer. They knew the reasons for the practice of putting down unregistered mecha. Those had already been presented. But here was a case, standing before them, of one who had been given a chance, and seemed to be making something of it.

"That's basically what happened to me," he kept his gaze steady and tone even, taking every cue from his memories of Prowl. "I had a family that cared for me, educated me, taught me as best they could to be a good mecha and eventually take my place in the workforce. Then my carrier was killed and everything changed. My sire did his best, but any hope I had for citizenship was gone. I was still a youngling at that point and I didn't understand what any of it meant. I only knew my carrier was never coming home, my sire was always sad and my brothers, both adults, were around much more often. As a mechling I grasped the politics and basic legalities of my situation, though it didn't hit home until my sire shoved several credit sticks in my hand and told me a neighbor had reported me and I could never come back. The authorities would be watching.

"I did as I always had and obeyed my sire. But like all of you, or at least I hope all of you, I had no skills to survive on the streets. That wasn't where anyone involved in my life had expected me to end up. I know now that my sire, and then my brothers, intended to take care of me indefinitely until they scraped together enough credits to buy my legal right to work and I could support myself. Does anyone have an answer for how I would have been a drain on society when my energon was being paid for by hard working mecha in legal jobs?"

"He wouldn't have been. You- wouldn't have been." One student dared to respond, cringing a little as he looked from Jazz to Gradescale.

Gradescale rumbled and glared. "The drain of an individual may be negligible. The drain of all such mecha is not. Taken in total, having too many mecha raises the price of energon until entire classes of hard working mecha are priced out of survival."

"True." Jazz didn't try to argue that point. "But there is no evaluation system either. I am stable. I was stable there. I was _driven_ from there to the streets."

"Which would not have happened if your creators had obeyed the law as good citizens do and not created more than they were entitled to for the stability of society," Gradescale tried to keep himself from growling. He was talking _with_ the thing, but he couldn't let its lies and appeals to individuals from making a difference. 

"They made a mistake." It killed a little bit of Jazz's spark to admit that fact. But he had learned honesty from Prowl, and he was willing to be honest. "And they paid for their mistake for the rest of their functioning. I almost paid for their actions as well. But I am being given a second chance. And I am not going to let it go to waste."

"What chance is that?" Someone near the back asked uneasily. "You're a pet."

"An education. And a chance to _earn_ my alquis. It is possible." Jazz answered. "Not all mecha want to procreate. Not all mecha have the chance to do so. That is the chance that exists for mecha like me."

"How are you going to pay for it?" Someone else asked.

"Lieutenant Prowl has given me the chance to work it off." Jazz said. "I do chores, run errands, clean house. It's slow, but it's worth it."

"How long will it take you?" Someone else asked.

"1100 vorns for my alquis." Jazz said quietly, giving them a moment to process that before he continued. "Though if you can imagine, it's rather priceless to me. Then another 2400 vorns for my upgrades and education. 3500, all together."

"What education?" another student asked.

"Second Diploma. Anything after the first was my choice to add on, not required by my sponsor." Jazz said, wanting to be clear that Prowl was not trying to keep him in an endless servitude.

There was a murmuring ripple of shock through the class, and Gradescale just stared at him, somewhat slack jawed. Eventually someone got their wits together enough to speak again.

"Why did you choose a Second Diploma and not higher, or freedom sooner?"

"Second Diploma works for me." Jazz shrugged a little. "It will allow me to function as a real working mech, but I have no desire for a functioning that requires a Diploma higher than that. And my sponsor has agreed that after I have earned my alquis and can hold a job, I can put actual credits towards my debt if I wish to reduce the time."

"Why wouldn't you want to?" Someone asked, both curious and confused.

"I may save some of the credits. Eventually I would like to run my own small business. Saving some means I would have to means to set myself up when I do eventually pay off my debt and set out on my own." Jazz pointed out, calm and reasonable.

"How, why did your sponsor pick you?" Another student asked.

"That would be a question you would have to ask Prowl. All I really know is that he was willing to take a chance on me, for whatever reason."

"Is what he's doing common in Praxus?" Someone asked.

"No." A Praxian said firmly.

"Instructor Prowl is a Lieutenant in the Enforcers. Surely he sees enough criminals to pick out who's a hardened criminal and who's stealing so they don't starve," another Praxian countered. "His survival can depend on judging mecha in a nanoklik."

"And I was stealing energon." Jazz admitted, the memory of that orn still enough to make him shudder a little. The feelings of helplessness and hopelessness from that orn still burned bright in his processor, as well as how he had all but given up. "I had reached the point of steal or starve. My sponsor arrested me, and then took pity on me. I certainly wasn't in any position to argue with him."

"Does he have a history of this?" a student asked.

"I am the first alquis-less mech that he has taken in, though not the first mech that he has sponsored through an education or trade."

"Prowl is also a mecha with resources and taken you on for one-on-one work. It is not practical for the large scale," Gradescale tried to control his frustration at the eloquence and points it put forward. He was about to continue when a chime sounded, signaling the end of the lecture. "You will find an assignment posted on the general lecture board. Complete it and have it submitted before the next lecture. Come prepared to discuss it as well." He warned his students.

Jazz was silent as the students rose, chatting among themselves as they left the hall and split off in various directions. He was still watching as the door clicked closed behind the last student.

Gradescale was also watching, and as soon as he was sure there was no one to see he reached out and grabbed the leash, yanking Jazz down viciously. Jazz yelped at the sharp shock and went down to his knees, but made no effort to struggle. He kinda knew it was coming.

"Why?" Gradescale demanded. "Why are you a success where so many others have failed?"

"I want it. I was raised for it. I don't know," Jazz answered, forcing his voice to remain calm and not shout. "Maybe my sponsor wants me to succeed when the others wanted to prove your point."

"You and your kind are a blot on society. Crime allowed to continue." Gradscale said as he yanked Jazz back up again with a crackle and hiss of electricity against his neck even as he tried to comply.

Jazz had nothing to say to that. He knew he wasn't going to change the mech's mind. He just needed to survive until Prowl got back and checked his messages.

"And I had to end up with the one exception to the rule. The one exception." Gradescale raged quietly as he started across the lecture hall, dragging Jazz behind him without care. The younger mech struggled to keep up, to keep the choker collar from shocking him any more by gripping the chain to give himself a bit of slack. He was only hoping that he was headed back to Prowl's quarters and not somewhere to be lost. Gradescale slowed a little while they were out in public, his speed allowing Jazz to keep up without being pushed to the limit.

All consideration disappeared once they were back in the residence building, the large mech throwing him around by the sturdy leash and collar, appearing to take some satisfaction in the muted sounds of distress from Jazz and flares of pain that pulsed through the young mech's field.

"Well, if he taught you nothing else, he at least taught you how to submit. Even if he hasn't gone as far as breaking your spirit." Gradescale sneered on the lift. "A pet... I could almost tolerate mecha keeping not-mechs as properly trained pets. But he's not planning to do that."

"Why does it matter to you what he does with the alquis that are his to use?" Jazz asked with a static-heavy voice.

"Because if you succeed, you are a beacon of hope to others like you. Perpetuation of the problem. Or you succeeded, so why should you not create more filth like you? Exceed the limit, defy the rules. And take from those who are real mecha."

"You really are sick," Jazz couldn't help himself. "You actually believe that drivel, don't you? That mecha would create just to defy rules. What kind of sad, backwards upbringing did you have that made you believe that mecha value defiance over love of their creation?"

Gradescale growled, pulling the leash close and tight so that he could look into Jazz's optics. "It was you, your kind, that took everyone I loved from me. So what could you know of _love_?"

The lift stopped, and he didn't give Jazz a chance to answer as pulled Jazz back to the Prowl's quarters and opened the door. Without a pause he shoved the smaller mech through the floor. "I hope you fail. Both you, and the sorry philanthropist that spared you."

With that he was gone, leaving Jazz to crawl to corner and curl up, as though that could hide him from his tormentor should he return. He didn't know how long it was before the door opened again, only that he'd drifted into a light recharge that was sharply disrupted as he cringed and tried to crawl into the wall to hide without thinking.

"Jazz?" the voice that called to him made him all but faint in relief, even as the pedesteps rushing towards him made him cringe. "Jazz, what happened? Who did this?" Prowl demanded as he made a frantic but quick job of removing the choker and chain.

"Professor...Gradescale...angry when he found out...found out I was more than pet." Jazz managed, whimpering softly at the light touch of Prowl's fingers to his damaged throat. It hurt to speak, the damage going deeper than the visible burns and crushing from the collar. He couldn't help but cringe away as Prowl moved, survival code from the street violently reawakened and active once more.

Prowl hummed a soothing tone and made a cursory check of the rest of Jazz's frame. "Come, we'll get you to the medic for repairs. Then I'll deal with Gradescale."

The younger mech set up slowly, compliant until his optics swept of the collar lying on floor where Prowl had thrown it and the door. "No..." He pleaded softly.

"Not that one. Not now that I know what it does," Prowl said firmly, his doorwings flicking in outrage. "The law doesn't say what kind of leash be used, only that there is some form of physical control. I'll find something soft to tie to your wrist. Okay?"

"Thank you." The relief was visible as Jazz leaned back against the wall, content to wait for Prowl to return with whatever he found, and working on convincing himself that he was safe now that his sponsor was back.

* * *

Campus was quiet, and Gradescale was taking advantage of having seen his last appointment to wrap a few things up before heading home for the evening. He nearly groaned when his door chime pinged, signaling that someone wanted his attention.

"Come in." He called, checking to make sure the door was unlocked and not even bothering to look up as he heard his visitor enter. "What can I do for you?" he asked as the mecha walked in front of his desk.

"You can explain why you took my property, used it without authorization and returned it damaged," Prowl's voice was absolutely level.

Only then did Gradescale look up, meeting Prowl's gaze with complete calm of his own. "I borrowed it as an example. It caused problems. Any damage was it's own fault."

"Lying to an Enforcer is not the best policy," Prowl informed him. "Having reviewed the memory files and security footage available, I am aware of how and when the damage occurred. Care to try again?"

"I was not aware that I was lying. It was resistant and defiant. I simply disciplined it where appropriate." Gradescale shrugged, still indifferent. "Though if I did actually damage it I guess I could pay for repairs. Or find you a replacement."

"Oh, you will pay damages, and have the crimes on your criminal record," Prowl informed him. "While limited, theft of a living being and cruelty to animals have already been approved by the local Enforcers upon viewing the evidence and legal status of Jazz while here. If you had given even a plausible excuse for your behavior I would have asked the charges be dropped. Since you have insisted you did no wrong, I will not ask for leniency. Thank you for your time," Prowl said smoothly as he turned to leave.

"Why do you care?" Gradescale demanded, suddenly angry. "I would think you, a Praxian Enforcer, of all mecha would understand the bane, the blot, that illegal mecha are on society."

Prowl turned to face him. "Whatever caused you to be so irrational about that class of mecha does not impact my mental capabilities. It does not change the fact that you took my charge, a being I have invested close to a half a million credits into already, without my authorization and damaged him physically and psychologically. His alquis has been paid for, which means it is an investment that, along with his upgrades and education, cannot be recouped unless he finishes his service to me. Whatever you believe Jazz's worth is, I have plans for him that involve him being a productive member of Praxian society."

The sheer magnitude of Prowl's investment was enough to silence Gradescale, but only for a few nanokliks. "It was his kind that killed my creators, took the ones that I love from without remorse. Why should I have any pity for them?"

"It was not his kind. It was violent criminals," Prowl informed him with a dark rumble. "Clearly your creators installed very poor judgment protocols in you if you are incapable of distinguishing a murderer from student. Even with that, I do not expect you to pity anyone. I, and the law, do expect that you obey the law even when it regards a group or creature you despise. You broke two laws that are undeniably clear in taking Jazz and damaging him. If we were anywhere else, it would have been three and Jazz would have been authorized to deactivate you to protect my property. By this time tomorrow he will have his alquis in hand, something I do not appreciate being forced into to protect my investment from you."

"Your problem. Not mine." Gradescale replied. He knew he was beaten, but something in him pushed him to be defiant until the end.

"True. It is only your problem in it makes me much less inclined to accept less than the harshest penalties," Prowl shrugged a long sensor wing into a flick of dismissal and turned to the door again.

This time Gradescale only watched him leave in silence. What was done was done, and despite Prowl's threats he still doubted the Enforcer could go through with all that he said. That was true right up to the point where a detective with a raptor alt and two Enforcers showed up near the end of the school orn the next day and arrested him in front of his students and read off the charges to them more than him.

* * *

Jazz leaned gratefully against his sponsor as they rode the lift up to the small apartment. It was so different from his last ride up, something that sent chills down his frame just thinking about.

"So...what happened to him?" Jazz asked softly, hoping that knowing might make him feel safer. He was a rather sure that he would feel safer if he could be sure that there was one less mech around that did not like him.

"I had him charged with left of a living being and animal abuse," Prowl answered with a soft flare of support in his field. "Regrettably it is little more than a slap on the wrist with the fines far exceeding the jail time, but he knows better than to go near you, and so do his students. He was arrested in front of his class."

"That must have been a blow." Jazz commented as they departed the lift, close enough to Prowl that mock leash leading from his wrist to Prowl almost drug the ground.

"I'm sure he was absolutely furious, and from what Detective Sickleclaw told me he didn't believe I'd actually filed for charges, much less that they'd hold up, even after they explained it in the precinct office," Prowl kept his voice calm and even, but his field was clear in its savage pleasure at the results. "He will not come close to you, or any animal for the foreseeable future."

There was a small flinch in Jazz's field at the term 'animal', but a moment later it smoothed out in to calmer satisfaction. "Good."

Prowl fell silent for the few additional steps to his quarters until they were inside and the makeshift leash was hung up. Jazz's glance around said that the choke collar and chain were gone.

"He did force me to alter my plans, for which I am very displeased but may not be a bad thing," Prowl began as he pulled something from his subspace. A small legal datapad. "Ping your ID."

Jazz frowned, curious but completely obedient, pinging his ID as requested. The result made him freeze, optics super bright and mouth hanging open.

"I won't risk your health and safety over a technicality," Prowl explained as he offered the small datapad. "I had to register the alquis to you when I took you in. I do not approve of giving things before they are earned. This is a good enough reason to bend that rule."

"But...but..." Jazz still couldn't quite process what Prowl had done. He hadn't finished the price for this, and Prowl had other options, surely. If nothing else he could have sent Jazz home to Praxus.

"As of when you booted up, you became a legal mecha with an indentured servant contract with me," Prowl continued to give Jazz a bit more time to process it.

"So...no more leash? I'm...real?" Jazz asked, still trying to process what had just happened.

"No more leash. You are a real, legal mecha of the empire." Prowl confirmed.

Jazz was shaking where he stood, still having a hard time despite all of the evidence before him and the word of his sponsor. Finally he looked up, meeting Prowl's optics. "So the contract...changed. Just the first contract? Not the second one, between us?"

"The both contracts changed in how legally binding they are on me," Prowl responded. "Otherwise, nothing of a practical nature changed."

In a flash the datapad disappeared in Jazz's subspace. Then he rushed into Prowl's arms, holding the mech tight as his field pulsed with thanks, lingering shock, and hints of affection. He felt strong arms embrace him as Prowl finally relaxed fully, content to simply hold him until he settled. After a few kliks Jazz vented softly and tipped his helm to nuzzle at Prowl. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Prowl murmured. "Your heath and safety is very important to me."

"Good house-keepers that hard to find?" Jazz asked, his tone light and teasing.

Prowl huffed in good humor. "Surprisingly so. Those that do all you do are even more difficult to find, much less keep."

"And good lovers?" Jazz purred, his tone taking on a suggestive purr.

"Worth whatever it takes to keep them safe," Prowl tipped Jazz's face up to kiss him soundly. His glossa slid along Jazz's lip plates, which opened invitingly as the mech they belonged pressed closer, frame rubbing suggestively against his lover's while his mouth was plundered. Only when the kiss ended with them both panting did Prowl tug Jazz towards the berthroom.

There was no resistance in Jazz, the mech spinning around so that he was leading in stead, his field teasing at Prowl's. The rest of the orn was open, and Jazz was sure of how he wanted to spend it. His lover's field, bright, hot and eager, gave no doubt that Prowl was just as sure and their intent matched and Prowl was most eager. Against the wall, in the berth...Jazz loved every klik of the pleasure they shared together, somehow so much sweeter now than ever before.

Much later, tucked against Prowl's side, Jazz nuzzled his lover as he stroked a sensor wing. "One more thing?" He asked, on the verge of drifting in to content recharge, but not before his curiosity was satisfied.

"If I have the energy for it," Prowl murmured, only slightly more cognizant.

"Now that I'm 'real', when we get home, can I get my wings back?"

"Yes," Prowl answered easily. "I only took them away because it was illegal for you to have them."

Joy surged through the younger mech's field, washing over Prowl in a gentle wave followed by a kiss.

"I believe you will look lovely with your frame fully intact," Prowl purred softly. "I'm looking forward to making you keen my designation with them."

"Loud enough for the whole complex to hear." Jazz promised, burrowing closer to Prowl, warm and very content with the sudden shift in his existence, and the new view it was starting to give him on functioning.


	8. Returning Home

Coming too was a smooth process, much like waking up from a long recharge, Jazz decided as he slowly came online. There was no panic- he knew exactly where he was, and what had happened, and if anything he was excited. Prowl had arranged for Jazz's to undergo the addition of his wings within a decaorn of returning to Praxus. It was going to feel so wonderful to be whole again. He could already feel the wing control protocols activate in response to his thoughts and thought, maybe, there was movement above him. Movement he hadn't felt in vorns. Not since Prowl had taken him in.

"You look good," Prowl's rich voice was the next thing he heard.

Blue optics came online, and Jazz turned his helm to smile up at his sponsor. "I can't wait to see, but for now I'll take your word on it."

Protocols that were quickly feeling natural once more flashed through his processor, and with a sigh Jazz _stretched_ , extending his sensor wings and reveling in the sudden flow of data that he had missed for far too long. The deluge was welcome, as was the smoothness of motion and perfect balance. As with everything else, Prowl had insisted on top quality parts and work.

"How are the readings looking?" a somewhat familiar voice asked.

"All green," Jazz responded after double-checking. He waited another klik, allowing the last of the checks to run and more things to settle before lifting his helm. "And still feels good. Am I allowed to move now?"

"Yes, just move slowly," the doctor answered him. "You've never had sensor wings in this frame."

He could teek Prowl close to him, ready to help but staying far enough back that he wasn't in the way.

"No- just wished for them." Jazz replied as he pushed his front end up slowly, then shifted sideways into a full sitting position. The weight on his back was new, but it was in proportion to his frame which handled it with ease. It was his processor that was going to have to adjust.

He shifted his sensor wings again and winced. Oh yeah- and the healing.

"Just surgical ache, or worse?" Prowl asked gently as he put a steadying hand between Jazz's sensor wings.

"Surgery ache." Jazz answered, recognizing a sensation that he was well familiar with before leaning carefully back into the touch of Prowl's hand. The warm steadiness was welcome, but even more so the strength of Prowl's field where metal touched metal was a balm.

"Good. You may walk around the room with Prowl's or a nurse's help. Recharging will be good for you as well. I will be back at shift change to determine if you are stable enough for release," the doctor told them both.

"Understood," Prowl responded on reflex to the authority.

"Got it." Jazz added his own confirmation, still leaning into Prowl's touch as the doctor exited the recovery room. Once the door was closed he turned his helm to look at Prowl. "So they look good? Gonna help me move to some place I can see too?"

"Yes, just move slowly. Your frame is well balanced, but that doesn't mean you're used to it," Prowl cautioned as he helped Jazz stand.

"I will. Not worried though." Jazz purred, taking advantage of the closeness and the privacy to nuzzle Prowl quickly before focusing his attention on walking. The first few steps were awkward and slow, but things clicked in his processor, settling easily for Jazz as his balance returned. By the time they reached the mirror along the back wall he felt steady enough to stand and slowly turn on his own, taking in his new profile.

Jazz purred at his reflection, slowly rotating his new sensor panels through the full range of available motion. Then he turned to face the mirror head on and spread them completely, unlocking the three fingers to flare out.

"You do look very good," Prowl purred from behind him.

"Thank you." Jazz responded as he turned to face Prowl. "I am looking forward to finding out _all_ they can do."

"I'm sure you are," Prowl's voice dropped to an eager rumble. "When we get home I intend to indulge myself with your new wings all night."

* * *

Jazz was tired when they arrived home at the end of the orn. But it was the good kind of tired, the kind that came at the end of productive orn. Still, the doctor had cleared him for normal activity. And he and Prowl did rather have a routine when Prowl was home early in the evening....

With that in mind he fluttered his new sensor wings subtly, knowing full well that the mech following him would pick up on the motion and its intent. 

Strong white hands reached forward to stroke the fluttering appendages with a soft rev of Prowl's engine. "I believe that you would benefit from a long soak."

"Am I going to have company during this 'long soak'?" Jazz inquired, angling his path to the lift and the second floor where a hot oil pool was calling his designation.

"Unless you'd rather be alone," Prowl purred, his field pulsing out to caress Jazz's with open intent.

"Well, I guess that would depend on the identity of the company." Jazz teased back, his field caressing Prowl's in return and invitation.

"Just the usual," Prowl chuckled and drew Jazz close as the lift began to move.

"I will enjoy the usual company very much." Jazz purred, leaning forward to catch Prowl's lips in a kiss that lasted until the lift came to halt, and a little beyond.

"Good," Prowl rumbled and nudged Jazz to move. "I've missed our evenings together in the oil."

"Mmm ... that Academy was not very accommodating in that." the younger mech agreed, the swirling of the oil as the pool filled and heated reaching his sensitive audios from the door of the wash rack.

"Agreed. I'm glad to be home," Prowl stroked his hands along Jazz's new single panel sensor wings again. "Duties like that remind me of how much I enjoy my luxuries."

Jazz stopped in place at the touch, moaning as the ripples ran through his entire frame from the attention. He teeked Prowl's pleasure and then another wave of bliss trailed the leading edge of those hands.

"Oil?" Jazz mumbled, rather sure he was not going to make it there any time soon if Prowl continued to keep that up.

"Yes. Is it too difficult to focus?" Prowl asked with a teasing tone and drew his hands away.

"When you are doing that, yes. Though I have no objection to you continuing once we are settled." Jazz's tone actually implied that he would be rather disappointed if Prowl didn't continue.

"Then the sooner you are in the oil, the sooner I can find out just how much you enjoy a wing overload," Prowl purred, his field bright with lust as it pulsed against Jazz's.

The feel of Prowl's field and the promise of his lover was enough to push Jazz into motion once more. Still, he took his time as getting into the oil pool, savoring the warmth and comfort of the oil as he slowly submerged, and feeling Prowl do the same just across from him.

"Turn around," Prowl purred, lust thick in his voice. "I want your wings."

"They look that good?" Jazz asked, but turned obediently. After a nanoklik of consideration he rested against the edge of the pool, arms crossed on the lip and helm resting comfortably on his arms. "All yours." He offered, spreading his sensor wings before letting them relax.

"This is the first time I've seen them on you," Prowl purred as he slowly slid his hands along the broad flats, pressing lightly into the cushioning that was the inside of the alt mode.

"True." Jazz moaned, melting under the even just the small pressure. "But I suspect that you just like them in general, don't you?"

"Of course," Prowl laughed softly as he continued to stroke. "I _am_ Praxian," he added as he teased the nearly invisible division between two fingers.

The mech under hands just moaned and somehow managed to melt even more, the sensor wings growing warm and quivering under Prowl's touch. Jazz had embraced every pleasure that Prowl had ever introduced him to, and it looked that there was not going to be anything different about this one.

"Have you had a wing overload before?" Prowl trilled softly as he played the expanses with skilled fingers, enjoying the growing charge.

"No. Few lovers...not much on tactile." Was the slurred response.

"Then I will enjoy being your first," Prowl leaned forward to kiss Jazz's neck as his fingers danced and stroked the quivering appendages.

Jazz's field flared into his lover, all energy and pleasure at the attention being lavished on him. He had played with Prowl's wings before, brought the Praxian pleasure like this. But he was learning so much, being on this end of it, and his subconscious was logging it all for later on his lover.

Right after he could think again through the pleasure rapidly clouding his processor and awareness. Prowl's field, full of pleasure and enjoyment, thrust into Jazz's frame, caressing and surging charge directly into the younger mech's circuits. Skilled hands continued to stroke, caress and tease until Jazz could do little more than tremble and keen the bliss surging through him.

When the overload crashed through him the energy rushed back into Prowl, washing over the mech and charging the surrounding oil. Prowl moaned, shivering at the energy but determined to remain focused. He continued to stroke the lovely single panel sensor wings before him, a length he hoped that one orn Jazz would earn the right to lengthen, and ignored the arousal demanding his attention.

"Ohhhh..." Jazz groaned as he hung limp along the edge of the pool, field reaching back to caress Prowl as he slowly came around. "That was- understand why you like it now-"

"Good," Prowl leaned forward to kiss Jazz's neck again. "It should feel that good."

"So..." Jazz started, shifting around slowly until he could kiss Prowl on the lips. "Is it time for me to try to out what I just learned, or are you planning to continue my education?"

Prowl rumbled at the suggestion but twitched his long sensor wings in negative. Instead he drew Jazz close and settled with him on his lap before reaching up to stroke the plating that was on the outside of the alt mode. His spike slid up, pressurizing between them. "Don't ride me. Just rest with me inside you."

"I'll do my best." Jazz promised as he leaned forward to kiss Prowl again. As their lips parted he lifted his frame, valve already uncovered, and slid slowly down on the thick spike with a shudder. After that first overload he was hot and eager, valve slipping tightly before he settled completely. "And now lover?"

"Now," Prowl claimed a kiss and stroked Jazz's sensor wing fronts, "I will overload you from this side and enjoy feeling the charge in my spike."

"I do rather like the sound of that." Jazz admitted as he leaned forward, arms wrapping around Prowl as his sensor wings pressed into the skillful fingers. Even with one overload so resent, the pleasurable strokes did not take long to bring up a charge strong enough to make Jazz moan against his lover's neck. 

"So good. So good." Jazz moaned, nipping and kissing at Prowl's neck as he held tight to his lover, frame quivering as he tried to hold still against the rising charge. "Prowl-"

Prowl moaned and trilled, holding his hips still on sheer will alone as he caressed and stroked, trying to drive Jazz over the edge before he lost control of himself. Suddenly the frame in arms locked up, sensor wings pressing into his hands as Jazz's helm fell back and he keened. Charge exploded outward, washing over Prowl as well for a second time. Only this time it also surged into his spike, a component designed to overload rather readily at the overload of another. Prowl gasped, shaking as he fought to continue to stroke until Jazz's hitching gasps began to still. Almost immediately he lifted Jazz from his lap and pressed him front-first against the pool's wall to drive into the still-crackling valve with a lustful moan.

"Prowl!" Two overloads had left Jazz little energy, but that hardly mattered with the way his lover was driving into him, and already driving him towards a third.

"Yes, lover?" Prowl grunted, one hand one Jazz's shoulder and the other on his hip, holding him steady for the deep, desperate thrusting. He was so close. So very close.

"Yes. Take." Jazz loved it when Prowl did this, and his lover knew it without question. "Love-." The next thrust took his voice, the words dying in a crackle of static.

One more thrust and Prowl roared. Both hands came down to Jazz's hips to pull him against the powerful grinding thrusts of the first peak of the overload before Prowl's frame locked up to pump crackling transfluid deep, rushing against sensors that existed only to be triggered by the a lover's overload. Sensors that were primed and ready, and sent Jazz into a keening third overload, valve clamping down and milking the thick spike that filled him in what seemed like perfectly made fit.

"So good," Prowl panted against his back as they began to come down. "Sated enough to clean up and recharge?"

"I am, if you are." Jazz purred, his field rubbing over Prowl with sated contentment, and the question of whether his love was the same.

"I am," Prowl hummed in reply, his field twining with Jazz's in contentment.

"Then cleaning up and recharging in your arms sounds very nice indeed." Jazz replied, his field twined deeply with his lovers.


	9. Completion of a Contract

With a soft purr Jazz snuggled closer to Prowl in the berth, his frame content but processor still working. Tomorrow was the end. The final orn in his service to Prowl. After almost 3400 vorns it was a slightly daunting prospect. Part of Jazz wasn't sure that he wanted to leave, to move on. Prowl has become more than his sponsor, the Praxian Enforcer something of a fixture in Jazz's functioning, and his affections.

But there were things Jazz's spark longed for, and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to find them here.

"Prowl?" The request for attention was accompanied by a gentle nuzzle to the neck of the mech he was cuddled against.

Prowl hummed, indicating he was paying attention.

"Tomorrow is it." Jazz pointed out mildly.

Prowl hummed in agreement. "What do you plan to do?"

"Keep working at Skyriser's." Jazz replied easily. "He's been good to me, and I'm not ready to strike out on my own just yet. He's letting me have one of the rooms above the bar. Not charging me rent, but it means that I close the place up every orn."

"It is a good trade. An apartment can easily take thirty percent or more of your income," Prowl agreed.

"I thought so." Jazz agreed. "And you? Going to find another lover? Maybe a bondmate?"

"If you do not wish to continue with me, I will find another in time," Prowl said with a flicker of sadness at the thought of Jazz leaving. "It is unlikely I will find a bondmate. Very few Enforcers wish to bond."

"Not that I don't wanna see you. Just gonna be busy, and you are too." Jazz nuzzled at him again. "And you won't look outside the Enforcers?"

"Why would I?" Prowl powered up his optics a bit more to look at him. "As you said, I'm a busy mecha. It's simpler to begin again with someone who shares my culture and understanding of what's expected and desirable."

"True." Jazz agreed, understanding what Prowl was saying. "Though it still narrows the playing field by a considerable margin." He hummed for a moment, reflecting on remarks that Prowl had made in the past. "Have I changed your processor at all about kindled mecha?"

Prowl hesitated, knowing his response would hurt, but still unwilling to lie. "No, I do not believe my general views have changed."

"So you still think kindling is a bad idea?" There was no hurt in Jazz's field, just a soft sadness.

"I still perceive no advantage to it and a great many determents," Prowl corrected him slightly. "I never questioned if good mecha could come of it, or that the difficulties could not be overcome. But as a path to existence, no, I would not wish it on even my enemies."

"And I still can't imagine not deciding what I want to do, at least to some degree." Jazz shook his helm, then nudged Prowl for a kiss that was granted with a warm, affectionate passion.

"So enjoy tonight?" Jazz suggested when the kiss came to an end, his field very clearly defining what he meant by 'enjoy'.

"Definitely," Prowl purred deeply as his hands moved to draw the first of many moans from his lover.

* * *

In the three hundred and eighty vorns since Jazz had left his orn to orn existence, Prowl had kept a general check on him. He was obligated to know how his former charge was doing and if he remained in good standing. So far the kindled mech had done very well for himself and Prowl thought of him often. That included right now, when he was desperate for good thoughts to balance out the horrible ones of the orn. There'd been an explosion at a small energon storage facility that had killed six and was under investigation as a probable crime; a terrorist act or industrial sabotage were the leading theories.

It would lead to many long nights for Prowl, and likely send him to look for a berthmate to overload a few times so he could recharge solidly when it was over.

"Prowl?" A helm poked around the door to space that served as Prowl's work area and he looked up with dim optics. "A couple of us are going out to fuel. Coming?"

The mech that was offering the invitation was younger than Prowl by almost half, but had already proven himself to be stable and in possession of a level processor. Streetlight also seemed to have a special ability to read mecha, an invaluable skill for interviews. It was also invaluable for keeping moral and stability among his unit-mates and Prowl found he was promoting the mech quite quickly. He'd make an exceptional officer if he had the spark to lead.

A slow nod, then hum of acceptance answered as Prowl stood and turned off the high-security datapads and his workstation. "That would be good. Thank you Streetlight."

"Know it's not going to stop you from coming back here if you feel like you _have_ to keep working, but a break can do anyone good." Streetlight commented as they walked out of the station to meet up with the others. "We're heading over to that new place on the west side- The Upbeat. Mech that runs it is young, but he knows how to put a place together so it appeals to multiple clientele."

The coordinates were pinged to Prowl as courtesy as they all transformed.

::I know the owner. He's a good mecha,:: Prowl commented as they pulled into traffic in a loose formation.

::Isn't he one of the ones you sponsored?:: Guardrail asked from his position at the tail end of the formation that was moving smoothly through traffic.

::Yes, the last one.:: Prowl answered. ::He's managed all this in less than four centuries with no assistance from me.::

"Impressive." The fourth member of their party commented as he pulled up and transformed, optics sweeping over the front of the bar. Located in a middle class section of the district, the location was neat and attracted attention without being flashy. "I haven't been here before, but Locator and Lightshine have only had good things to say about it."

"I'm looking forward to trying the place out. I've been here before, but it was on a dispatch." Guardrail offered.

"I haven't visited, though I have no doubt Jazz does excellent work," Prowl said as they walked in and cataloged the interior, from exits to patrons to furniture to what could be a likely weapon. A small dining area occupied the area to the right of the entrance, with a couple tables and chairs and a few booths for larger parties. An open space separated it from the larger bar, half populated with mecha this late in the orn. The lighting was pleasant, illuminating without being overpowering, and the music playing from hidden speakers lived up to the bar name. It was lively and up beat, but not at a volume to damage audios or irritate sensors.

Behind the bar a mech as lively as the music was conversing with a customer, blue optics shining behind a clear visor as he laughed and served the mech another drink. Prowl took note and smiled to himself. With as much as had gone wrong with his orn, it was good to see his former charge in such good spirits.

"Booth good with everyone?" Streetlight asked, motioning towards the group seating section.

"Good with me." Guardrail said and headed for the biggest one. "Only staying for a drink or two."

"He does seem to be doing well," Quickstop commented as they sat down with a small flick of a sensor wing towards Jazz. "I admit, I thought you were crazy, but you were right, as usual."

Prowl simply gave a small smile of acknowledgment to the complement/admission.

Once they were all seated a cheerful voice greeted them as a young mech seemed to appear out of thin air by the booth. "Evening. I'm Shortstop. What can I get'ya?"

"Vosian high grade, sweet," Prowl ordered, going for something potent enough that even his co-workers took note.

"Large molten highgrade. Add some iron shavings." Guardrail ordered.

"Just a regular solar energon for me now. And an order of those compressed silicon wafers." Streetlight added his own order.

"Crystal with silicone," Quickstop ordered.

"Be right back with your orders," Shortstop left as smoothly as he'd appeared.

"So the owner is one of your charges, but you've never tried the place?" Streetlight focused on Prowl as they waited, curious.

"I do not like to appear to be hovering, favoring or interfering with their existence once they've left my service," Prowl explained. "I take in mecha to make them productive, independent members of society. It is difficult to do that if your sponsor is constantly dropping by."

"I could see how that might be taken as invasive." Streetlight agreed, sensor wings giving a twitch of pleasure as their orders appeared on the table.

"Everything right?" Shortstop checked, hovering for a moment.

Prowl took a sip and hummed with pleasure as he nearly melted into the bench seat.

"Looks and smells great," Streetlight smiled, sending the server away to tend to others.

"Especially for the ones who work for somebody," Guardrail added before taking a good swig of his high grade. "Could put all the wrong ideas in the boss's helm."

"Both are true," Prowl agreed, relaxing into the potent, numbing warmth of the Seeker-grade drink.

"So does anyone else follow the pro circuit?" Streetlight asked, shifting the subject as he pushed the basket of wafers into the middle of the table for everyone to share. "Thoughts on the race coming up?"

Talk drifted from subject to subject, spanning every orn things unrelated to work or the recent cases looming over them. Guardrail was the first to excuse himself, once his highgrade had settled, begging off with an early shift the next orn. Quickstop was not far behind him, though the twitch of sensor wings and nuances of his apologies suggested that he had something else planned for the night, something that did not involve him spending it alone.

"Move to the bar?" Streetlight suggested once Quickstop was gone. "Looks like things have slowed down. Or are you going to leave me to finish drinking alone?"

Prowl glanced towards where Jazz was, uncertain if he wanted to be that close. A cube of sweet Vosian high grade worked on him as well as it did on anyone though and he nodded, standing and decidedly aware that he was not completely in his right processor, though he was still a long way from legally overcharged yet. "I'll stay for another cube."

Streetlight stood and waved Prowl towards the bar before him, allowing the other Enforcer to chose where they were going to sit. "Same thing again, or something else this time?" He asked as they moved.

"Lighter, definitely lighter. Another Vosian and I won't be legal to drive home," Prowl chuckled, his sensor wings fluttering slightly as he picked the last two stools at the bar. "Regular, something sweet."

Streetlight nodded and raised a hand to catch Jazz attention, then looked at Prowl. "So are you heading back into the office from here, or are you planning to try and relax a little?" The field that reached out with the question brushed lightly against Prowl, inquisitive and possibly offering.

"I won't go back in until the buzz has worn off at least," Prowl answered, and his field caressed back with definite interest in not being alone, and in the pleasure company offered.

Streetlight smiled, mouth open to respond when two drinks appeared in front of them. One was his usual, the other something softly glowing with ore spices floating on the top.

"This rounds on the house." The bartender and owner informed him. "It's good to see you, Prowl."

"Thank you. It's good to see you doing so well, Jazz," Prowl smiled warmly at his former charge. "You've made me very proud."

Slender, single sensor panels flicked in shy pleasure at the praise. "Thank you. How are you?" A field reached out to brush against Prowl's in a familiar question and quickly ached with sympathy at the distress and exhaustion it found there.

"Overall, I am well." Prowl answered. "This orn has been rough."

"And there are more ahead." Jazz murmured sympathetically, still able to read the mech that had acted as his sponsor well. He glanced up at a call from further down the bar. "I'll be back."

A few kliks later Jazz returned and set a small plate with a few enegon confections on near Prowl. "What have you been doing? Besides work- that one is a given."

Prowl chuckled weakly. "More work than before; less reason to leave when my shift's over. Evening's aren't as enjoyable, but they are much more quiet now. You were there for a long time."

"Yeah." Jazz agreed softly, a conflicted ripple running through his field where it touched Prowl's.

"Hey Jazz!" A new mech jumped up on a stool a few down from Streetlight, looking for all the world like he belonged there. Bright streaks of color ran the length of a slender white frame, screaming for attention.

"Trickjump." Jazz greeted the mech with a smile that hinted the newcomer might just belong where he was." Your usual?"

"Yup." Trickjump agreed as Jazz fetched the large, glowing cube of highgrade. "Where's your better half tonight? I thought he was usually off by now."

There was a small stutter in Jazz's normally smooth motion as he served Trickjump. "It didn't work out."

"Didn't work out?" Trickjump stared at him in disbelief. "But you two were together for...well forever. What happened?"

Prowl listened, carefully still in the way he'd been trained to become invisible when suspects forgot he was there and talked freely among themselves. Next to him he could feel Streetlight doing the same, subtly honed in on the same conversation.

"98 vorns." Jazz corrected quietly, then shrugged his wings. "Things just didn't work out, and he moved on."

"Mech, I'm sorry. You two seemed so..." Trickjump trailed off, waving his cube of energon around for emphasis.

"Yeah." Jazz agreed. "Probably for the best that it happened now though. Be back to check on ya in a klik." He added, moving farther down the bar in response to another call for attention.

"Did you know?" Streetlight focused on Prowl and the very faint flicker of surprise across the older Enforcer's field.

"That he'd split with Rider, no." Prowl admitted.

"You knew they were a thing though?" Streetlight asked, assuming that since Prowl knew the mech's designation he had known of their relationship, but wanting to be sure.

"With nearly a century together?" Prowl glanced at his co-worker and chuckled. "Of course. It was a good run for a first relationship."

"First? How long was he was with you?" Streetlight asked.

"Thirty four hundred," Prowl said and sipped his energon. "It was all under service contract though. Doesn't really count."

"Right." The reply was one of agreement, but Streetlight's tone implied that he didn't completely believe what the older mech was saying. He kept quiet though as Jazz came back around to them, the thinning crowd demanding less of his attention as the bar slowly cleared.

"So how are you fairing, outside of the thriving business?" Prowl asked gently.

"Doing all right." Jazz said, his public face back in place after making a round of the bar. "Been going over to visit my brothers about once a metacycle or so. Skidshift and his bonded are expecting their first creation soon. Shortrun impressed his supervisors so much that they are putting him through more advanced mechanic training. He might make supervisor some orn."

"That's excellent news," Prowl offered a warm and spark-felt smile. "Your ex didn't do anything too serious, did he?"

Jazz's field went still and cold. "Stay after closing?" He asked quietly.

"If you'd like me to," Prowl took note of Streetlight's silent and graceful departure but was focused on his former charge. His field reached out to caress Jazz, silently asking if he was really okay.

"Please." Jazz's field reached back, giving Prowl a small glimpse of the _hurt_ that was hiding there.

"I'll get you another cube." Jazz added even as Prowl's field tried to offer comfort. "Closing is in a joor."

"I'll still be here," Prowl promised and watched Jazz move to get another cube, even though his first was barely more than half finished. He dealt with a couple other patrons, his outward manner cheerful and attentive, and Prowl wondered when his charge had become such a good liar.

The place cleared out a klik before closing, everyone left by that time a regular who knew the routine. As the last patron left Jazz closed the front entrance set the alarm.

The flick of another switch dimmed the exterior lights.

The outward calm dropped away as Jazz turned to face Prowl. Without even thinking Prowl stood and walked the few steps to Jazz to draw him close, simply holding him and offering wordless support.

"I just don't understand." Jazz cried softly, falling into the support like a lost mechling.

"Not every relationship works out," Prowl said gently. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not my frame." Jazz mumbled, field slowly loosening to meld with Prowl's accepting the comfort and support. "He was here, then he was just gone. Things were tense for a couple orns, then I went up to the apartment after closing, and ... you wouldn't have known that two mecha had been living there for almost fifty vorns."

"I'm sorry, Jazz," Prowl whispered softly, a flicker of anger at the mecha he'd never met crossing his field before being carefully buried. "I'm very sorry it ended like that."

"Saw him a couple orns ago. Out with someone else." Jazz added, a fresh wave of pain flooding though his field. "I just- I don't know what I did to make him leave like that."

"Likely nothing," Prowl murmured gently. "Not all mecha stay together. That you didn't see it coming indicates that he made no effort to stay. Any lover worth keeping will communicate good and bad."

"I just wish I _understood_." Jazz admitted, slowly pulling himself together and managing a smile for Prowl. "I do need to finish closing up for the night. Then- if you want to stay-" He hesitated. "-it's nothing like your place, but-"

"If it would help you recharge better, I will stay tonight," Prowl smiled gently and stroked Jazz's cheek with his thumb. "You teek like you could use a friend."

"A friend would be very nice." Jazz agreed, helm tilting into the touch. "And more, if you need it as well." He offered, field playing back the hints of stress it had picked up from Prowl earlier.

"Only if you want it," Prowl said firmly, even as his field betrayed his desire for it. "My rough orn is just from what made the news. Yours is more serious. We can talk while you work, if you'd like."

Jazz's field warmed and leveled out considerably as he nodded in agreement, and leaned in for a chaste kiss before stepping back. "Tell me about your orn?" He requested as he started wiping down tables and setting chairs and stools up out of the way.

"Did you hear about the energon storage facility explosion?" Prowl asked as he leaned against the bar and watched Jazz move about.

"I did." Jazz said, attention switching from cleaning the tables to mopping up the floor seamlessly. The routine was obviously one that had been practiced and perfected over the vorns he'd owned the business. "The official report, and lots of rumors and hear-say. And none of it good."

"Best case scenario is not good but of limited importance in the vorn. It is just a decaorn of long nights and stress for me," Prowl agreed grimly. "Worse case means the war is closer than even I anticipated and Praxus is a target."

"Then we'll have to hope for best case." Jazz commented as he moved from the floor to straightening up the bar, pushing playfully at Prowl's arm. "Can't finish if you're in the way."

Prowl shifted compliantly with a warm brush of his field. "Hope for the best, prepare for the worse and view the evidence with an unbiased processor."

"So you have always said." Jazz agreed, making quick work of straightening up the bar too. He paused, slipping a small package into his subspace before stepping around to join Prowl. "Ready to go?"

"Yes," he offered his hand to Jazz. He knew Jazz lived upstairs, but not where the lift was.

Jazz guided him through the bar and to a back door. "Service lift is this way." He said quietly. "Multi-purpose. Serves everything in the building."

The lift was old, but operated smoothly as it carried both mecha up two floors and opened into a narrow hall. Still holding Prowl's hand Jazz led the Enforcer to the second door on the left and punched the entry code in.

"Like I said, it's not much." Jazz's field flickered with embarrassment as Prowl followed him into a sparsely furnished room. A couch and vidscreen took up most of the space on one side, while the other side was occupied by a table and a set of chairs. The only other door was standing open, the edge of a berth visible from where they stood.

Prowl smiled at him as they entered. "Just because I spend a disproportionate amount on my residence does not mean you need to. If it works for you, if it is what you need, that is what's important."

"It's what I can do right now. Have a rent to own contract with the current owner. He used to run a restaurant where the Upbeat is now." Jazz explained, embarrassment giving way to pride at the approval.

"How long before you own it outright?" Prowl asked, more interested than he should be in his former charge's prospects.

"At my current income? Around 4,879 vorns." Jazz said after some quick figuring. "But with the way net profit is increasing, I should be able to pay it off well before then. I made sure that option was written into the contract."

"You have learned well," Prowl said with genuine approval as he waited for Jazz to give an indication where they were to sit, or if this was headed to the berth.

"Can I get you anything, or?" Jazz finished the question with a gesture towards the berth, the field touching Prowl's clearly just desiring the attention of someone close, and a desire to be held and cared for.

Prowl smiled and took his hand to guide him to the berth. "I think recharging close to you would be best."

"I like that." Jazz agreed, surrendering to Prowl's guidance. The berth was nothing like the one they had shared as lovers, the padding just enough to be Praxian grade and the size forcing to lay close enough to touch as they settled, not that either was interested in any distance between them.

Jazz wasted no time snuggling as close to Prowl as he could once the Praxian was settled and purred softly when Prowl embraced him to hold him just a little closer.

* * *

With a soft vent Jazz closed and locked the door behind the last patron. He stared at his reflection in the in the transparasteel, gathering his courage as best as he could. He didn't want to do this, but he couldn't ignore it any longer. The little comments were growing more pointed and digging deeper with each orn that Prowl came to the bar and stayed past closing. Louder each time they were seen together past the rebound stage for Jazz and then longer than he'd been with Rider by twice, three and four times. Heading close to five centuries as lovers but undefined officially it was too much and starting to earn comments from Enforcers, though of an entirely different kind. Those were unveiled warnings about not hurting the lieutenant.

Finally he turned to face his lover. He couldn't be surprised when Prowl looked more serious than usual. He had to have picked up on Jazz's mood, even if by some chance he hadn't heard the comments. At least with Prowl, he could get right to the point. If that was going to hurt, he would know soon enough. "What are we? When others ask- what do you tell them?"

"That we're lovers," Prowl regarded him curiously, and suddenly cautious. "Why?"

Jazz answered with a question of his own instead. "Do you know why I left when my contract was paid?"

Prowl scowled, put even more on edge. "Because the contract was over."

Jazz vented again, and approached Prowl, his field reaching out to brush against the older mech's. It was full of confusion and fear. "My servant contract was paid." Jazz agreed softly. "But the other contract. I'm a kindled mech, Prowl. I want-I've always wanted a bond. And some orn a creation of my own, created with my bonded. I know-knew- you didn't really _want_ any of that. And I was afraid I was falling in love with you. Now I know I am, and it still doesn't change what I want."

Even though he used the word 'want', the emphasis it his field screamed of _need_. And with it was the truth of the feelings in his spark for the mech standing in front of him.

And with the truth out in the open Jazz waited for the rejection his processor was sure was coming.

Prowl stood stiffly, working through all that with an unhappy processor and even more unhappy spark. "Then you have two choices. Accept what it means to be an Enforcer's bonded, the truth that I will never want such things for myself even though I accept them, or I will walk away now and you can seek out a kindled mecha that shares your desires to fall in love with."

"I understand that your duty will come before me. I know that you don't need what I do. I've functioned with that for centuries." There was a brief flicker of amusement with that, quickly lost in the seriousness of Jazz's next question. "Can you be happy with me, as I am?"

"Yes," Prowl answered just as seriously.

Jazz held out his hands, palms up in supplication. "Try being more?" He asked, hopeful and willing and still afraid all at once.

"We will need a new contract." Prowl said as he took Jazz's hands and brought them to his lips for a kiss. "You have always made me happy, Jazz."

"Your processor ache to write up." Jazz teased, pressing closer to claim a kiss. "Still willing to stay the night, without a new one?"

"The existing contract stands until dissolved or the new one is signed to supersede it," Prowl kissed him back and held the contact for a long, warming klik. "I will prepare the base form before the end of my shift tomorrow."

"Doing something not work at work?" Jazz asked, the joy and jittery excitement in his field showing through in his teasing as he slowly started pulling Prowl towards the back exit, cleaning left for the next orn without a care.

"Of course not," Prowl was genuinely upset at the idea despite recognizing it as teasing. "My coding would never allow it," he reminded his lover. "It will be done on breaks and in transit."

"I know love." Jazz soothed the irritated coding that drove his lover's functioning. "You're too good at what you do."

It worked well and Prowl relaxed, the irate coding appeased and settling back into the background. He leaned close to Jazz, his field warm with affection as they rode the service lift to the second floor and Jazz's simple apartment.

The path from the lift to the apartment and from the entrance to the berth was a familiar one, filled with kisses and caresses. Jazz finally slowed some when he had Prowl on the berth, hands stroking his lover's chestplates. "And what tonight love? Spike? Valve? Touch?" He paused for a moment. "Spark?"

Prowl stiffened, but even without his field making it clear Jazz recognized startled into shock in his lover. He gave Prowl the moment he needed to unlock and process what had been said and kept a careful teek on him just in case it was more serious that he expected.

Slowly Prowl relaxed and his optics focused on the mech above him. "That is a very serious offer, as I recall."

"Yes." Jazz agreed, calm and at ease with the idea. "But one I would like to explore. With you."

Prowl reached up to traced the centerline of Jazz's chest as he thought hard about it. "Why now?"

"I trust you." The first statement was one of simple truth that spanned all of Jazz's adult functioning. "And maybe a way for us to be sure?"

Prowl smiled warmly and reached up to draw Jazz down by the neck into a long, deeply intimate kiss that left them both hot and fans whirring. "I'm sure you've fantasized about your first merge," he purred between their barely parted lips. "Tell me."

"Pleasure. Warmth." Jazz said, slowly, field pulsing with emotion. "Feeling another so close. Closer than field, than touch, than hardline. Knowing another, and trusting them to know me. Having that feeling, that sensation, with someone I want and desire."

Prowl couldn't hide his surprise, much less his confusion. "That will be true. It is what a good merge is like. You had no thoughts of how? Laying down, sitting up, on top or under me...."

"Just touching." Jazz admitted. "How never seemed as important. From what I understand, far enough and frame doesn't seem to matter as much any more. True?"

Prowl gave an understanding smile and leaned in for another kiss. "It's true. It's also best when the frame, processor and spark are already aroused before the merge begins. I don't know why, but it makes merging more of sinking into hot oil rather than jumping into an electrical storm." He easily rolled over so Jazz was on his back, his sensor wings fanned out as his lover straddled him. "So the first step is to heat up," he purred and leaned down to rub their frames together as they kissed. One hand reached out to stroke one of Jazz's sensor wings as Prowl focused on warming them up.

"I think I can handle that." Jazz smiled, his hands reaching up to mirror the motion of Prowl's hands on his wings on the older Praxian.

"Good," Prowl moaned and pressed into the welcome touch and deep, moaning kiss. His chest plates unlocked with a distinctive click, but didn't open. Jazz's field meshed deeply with his, sensing his lover's actions and copying them as his processor melted into the pleasure building between them. Then fingers were on his chest seam stroking, asking, and the sounds finally penetrated Jazz's pleasured haze. "Open lover. We're warm enough."

Jazz obeyed without question, chest plates parting under the touch and his spark chamber sliding forward, bathing the mech above him in a rich blue glow that pulsed and shifted. Strong white fingers caressed the crystal gently, anticipation rich in his field as he pulled stuttering, gasping moans from Jazz, and then the fingers were gone and Jazz's optics instinctively locked on the chamber coming forward inside Prowl's frame.

Nearly pure white with just a faint hint of blue, Prowl's spark was dense with power that uncoiled from its chamber to lick at Jazz's chamber and internals. The touch was enough to lock Jazz up for a moment, his entire frame quivering under Prowl's until his spark seemed to take over, the protective chamber spiraling open and thin leaders of blue reaching out to connect with the white strands above. The surge that hit Jazz was pure _Prowl_ , a thousand times more intense than teeking or even fully meshing fields. Even the pleasurable currents were secondary in that moment to _feeling_ the incredible purity of Prowl in this form.

It was everything he had expected, and more. The devotion to duty and purpose, the contentment and joy in that purpose. Next to it though, was the compassion Prowl had, and another sense of purpose that he found in giving and caring for others, in helping them lift themselves up from where they'd fallen into his domain. Past that was a hardness that Jazz had seen very little of directed at him, but had been witness to a few times. Intolerance towards those who would willfully harm others. It was nearly savage at its very core, a dark monster held in check by coding and spark utterly dedicated to _law_.

In here too, Jazz truly felt that there _was_ a difference beyond coding between sparked and kindled. Prowl's spark had never known a creator bond, never been dependent on another for its existence, never felt the loss of that safety. It made it more independent and strong in some ways, but to Jazz's spark, it also left a hard edge that would never understand the joys of creation.

It explained a great deal, and slowly Jazz's spark uncoiled, inviting Prowl in to feel and see the essence of the spark that he saved, and given new hope and purpose.

The first sense of being aware, and only knowing that you were loved and wanted. Translating that sense into family, and the light of the deep bond that Jazz had with his brothers, and the loss that was still there where his creators had been, soothed by memories of goodness and care.

And also was how it was reaching out to encompass Prowl, elevating him to that special place. Prowl's spark recognized the value, and pulsed in the warmth and honor it felt at being so important to another, even as it and the processors it powered tried to correlate that to something it understood. It took a moment, but Prowl offered what partner, instructor and unit meant in his world, and they had distinct similarities. The sense of caring, of importance, of responsibility were all close enough to bear comparison. Yet there were differences as well, as even at the spark level Prowl understood that his bonds were transitory. There was only one term that held permanence in Prowl's world: mate.

It was a term that had been linked to Jazz for a very long time in this spark.

The term was accepted and embraced, joy dancing at the proof of Prowl's declaration that he would and could accept Jazz as he was, despite their differences. That he was willing for them to be together.

 _Mate_. The term, the spark level meaning was taken, turned over, inspected, and drawn close as warmth rose to caress and embrace Prowl's spark. The stronger spark sank into the embrace willingly, relishing this closeness and its intent. It had known many, many sparks in its existence, from casual pleasure to those that were almost mates, yet it was no less grateful that the spark that had been designated as mate wished the role and understood, as well as any kindled spark could, what that role was. Support, loyalty, a willingness to surrender to the demands of the function when needed, the ability to accept that the world would never be easy for the other.

Not easy, the other spark agreed. But behind that agreement was the willingness to be there, and to face it together, even if it meant being apart when duty called. Jazz felt Prowl's spark relax a bit more at the reassurance and began to grasp just how big a deal it was and how great the fear was that a kindled mecha would not understand that duty came first. That it had to come first. Not because a _mate_ was not loved completely and more than any, but because without _function_ there was no life.

The spark touching Prowl's simply responded with the fact that _love_ and _family_ were life. But a mate was family, and if the function was important to the mate, than it was accepted because love was wanting what was best for the other. It earned a little more relief, and a promise that Prowl would support, and try to understand, what was important to Jazz.

The surge of emotion that promise earned was coupled with a surge of pleasure-energy, the brilliant blue spark pulsing and surging as it began to loose coherency. Prowl's spark readily responded, eager to show this untouched spark the pleasure that was a good merge. It guided the younger one into the rhythm that synched their energies and created the small nova that burst across their frames.

Jazz's systems were slow to reboot, but his field was a warm mass of hazy contentment wrapped around his lover even before cognitive functions were fully back online. "Prowl?"

"Mmm?" Prowl hummed, in much the same state, though experience and hardware ensured he was far more coherent.

"Thank you." The younger mech mumbled, snuggling closer to the warm frame still wrapped around his, recharge threatening to take him.

"You are welcome," Prowl nuzzled him before shifting to settle more comfortable for recharge. "Rest, my mate. We will talk more later."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Aliquis** : certificate of personhood. Equivalent of a birth certificate, only far more important. Idea derived from <http://news.yahoo.com/china-mother-fined-54-200-flouting-one-child-214727195.html>
> 
> Diplomas, in universes that have them, are used to hold mecha in their place. It is functionally almost impossible to afford the education and fees associated with getting a higher level Diploma than your creators have without a sponsor from a much higher economic bracket.
> 
> 1st: Middle School  
> Low-level Trades School (truck driver, plumber, carpenter)  
> 2nd: High School  
> High-level Trades School (Government jobs, accountant)  
> 3rd: Associates  
> 4th: Bachelors  
> 5th: Masters  
> 6th: Doctorate
> 
> This verse has tri-wing Praxians, but other frametypes are normal  
> [Tri-Wing Prowl by Alteride](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Tri-Wing-Prowl-by-Alteride-261651115) by [Gatekat](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)


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